


That Hidden Face

by FairyGirl9977



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alice in Wonderland References, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Descent into Madness, Hallucinations, Mild Gore, Other, Psychological Horror, References to Undertale Genocide Route, Wonderland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-06-20 05:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 46,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15527271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyGirl9977/pseuds/FairyGirl9977
Summary: It had been a long time since Frisk led their monster friends out of the Underground. The human had lived a peaceful life alone since then, but mysterious circumstances brought them back to that momentous location... or, at least it looked familiar. For, you see, the characters have lived different lives from their likenesses, and a new, deadly threat plagues the land. A threat that, apparently, they had dealt with once before, in a secret adventure they did not remember having.And so, trapped in this strange, dream-like landscape, Frisk must take it upon themself yet again to pave the road to their happy ending, playing by its "2+2=22" rules and uncovering the forgotten history behind this "game."





	1. The Strange Dream Begins

Bright light flashed against Frisk’s eyes when they finally woke up. They immediately shielded their face with their arms, very slowly removing them as they tried to adjust their vision. Then they sat up, observing their surroundings. Everything around them was golden, from the many pillars that surrounded them to the glass windows that stood to their right. The windows were the only ones producing that light they realized, as everything else in the hallway was almost entirely drenched in shadow.

From what the human could see, the hallway itself wasn’t that long. It was almost the length of a football field, they guessed. It helped that the hallway was abandoned, save for themself and a dinky little chest all the way at the end. But at least it was peaceful. They wished they could remember how they landed themself in such a beautiful area.

Then they realized something.

 _This is the Last Corridor,_ they reminded themself. As memories of this location resurfaced, Frisk frantically scrambled to their feet, dusting off their apron--

_Wait… why am I wearing an apron?_

They didn't recognize the puffy blue romper they had on, either. Nor the striped stockings. They were comfortable, sure, but they weren’t _theirs_. The only thing even remotely familiar was the gold heart locket dangling from the chain on their neck. It was a bittersweet memory, but one they kept nonetheless. Still, no matter how hard they tried to, they couldn't remember putting on these clothes. Nor could they remember coming into and falling asleep in this corridor. Now that they thought about it, they couldn't even recall what they were doing before they woke up here.

They couldn’t have fallen down that hole again, otherwise they’d be in the garden at the Ruins instead.

The garden… _there was another place with a garden, too…_

Frisk turned on their heels, facing the other end of the hallway. The end that would lead to the throne room. Someone had to be there. Then they could ask for help. Yes, that's it. Someone else ought to know how to get them out of this mess.

And so the human rushed through the archway and down the grey hall. As they sped along, more memories rushed back to them. They recalled having gone down these halls once before a long time ago. Childlike wonder composed their being as they marched on then. They remembered being filled with a mixture of hope and dread when they came here. It wasn’t just in this hallway, though. They remembered feeling this way back at the Ruins, as well as throughout their entire trek down in the Underground. All those exciting memories came back to them like a rushing river, and the human was thrilled to wade through it all once more.

There was something else there, too. Something that Frisk couldn't recall for whatever reason.

They soon reached their destination, taking a sharp turn to the left into the final room. The floor went from concrete to grass. Bright light from more windows above illuminated the throne in the middle of the room. Surrounding that throne was a ring of flowers. That beautiful garden which they missed so dearly nearly took up the entire space of the floor. The ground was practically littered with pale roses, overgrowing the now wilted and dull yellow flowers that used to take place here.

…

Wait. _Roses?_

 _Where's the king?_ Frisk wondered, beginning to tremble. _He never grew that kind of flower here. When did this happen?_

As they walked closer towards the unattended throne, the dead flowers under the roses crunched beneath their boots. The room suddenly felt cold. That earlier sense of dread took hold of Frisk’s ankles and tried to yank them back. Yet they persisted.

When they finally reached the throne, they noticed some faint warmth coming from the seat, like someone still visited this place. The spot of warmth was far too small to be the king’s presence. So, whose was it? Who else other than the king would still be--

They heard voices outside of the room. There were two specifically that echoed off the walls; one of them was robust and slightly louder than it needed to be; the other voice spoke in a low drawl, almost sounding husky. As these voices drew closer, Frisk was quick to remember the white covers at the back of the room. And so, leaping over the flowers to the best of their ability, they rushed to their hiding spot, patted their way around the gold and glassy surface of the item beneath the fabric, and ducked underneath the white cover. As soon as they could understand the voices clearly, they carefully ducked down low enough to peek outside from the cover.

“I just don’t understand why you carry that bucket here every other day,” the person with the robust voice groaned. He was a tall fellow with a long jaw, and his wine-colored pinstripe suit gave him the illusion of a strong build. His whole look was perfected with a top hat and two white rabbit ears that sprung out on either side of his head. Yup. _Papyrus looks just as weird here, too,_ Frisk noted almost immediately.

The skeleton’s smaller companion, who Frisk identified almost immediately as Sans, was much more slim, almost bearing a waspish form. He wore a black leather bodysuit that lacked sleeves, adorned with belts along his neck and waist. On this skeleton’s head were dark grey cat ears, which matched the boney tail that slowly swayed behind him. It was an extreme contrast to the style he was remembered for. But now was not the time to ponder their looks.

“Sans” sported his usual grin, placing a paintbrush and the aforementioned red paint bucket down onto the throne. “Because these poor flowers keep losing their color. So I’ve made it my duty to return it to ‘em.”

“Papyrus” crossed his arms as he thought about the shorter skeleton’s statement. Almost too quickly, he nodded his head in agreement. “That makes sense,” he affirmed.

It didn’t.

Frisk kept watching the skeletons, their face just hovering over the ground. This whole scene reminded them of a storybook. And so, logically speaking, if they followed the rules of that book, they could find their way out of this situation, right? There could be no other explanation. Plus, these two were their close friends once. The human could trust them to help. or, at least, they hoped so.

Just as Frisk was about to come out of hiding, “Papyrus” pulled out a pocket watch from within his jacket. He took one quick glance at the time while “Sans” began… _painting the roses_ , and sighed heavily.

“Remember, the Duchess expects us at her residence at 6 o’clock _sharp_ ,” he emphasized. “She and Madam Gryphon have urgent business to discuss. So, don’t dawdle here like you always do.”

Without looking back from his handiwork, “Sans” replied nonchalantly, “If you didn’t let that clock prod you with his hands all the time, you wouldn’t worry about the sharpness as often as you do.”

The tall skeleton was taken aback by his companion’s response. “I… how… You are not seriously telling me that you look upon Time with such little value!”

“I’m not seriously telling you,” the other clarified amusingly. “I’m casually telling you.”

“Why, you…! Time waits for no one, you know! And with the way you’ve been acting as of late, he’s bound to become impatient with you!”

“How can he, when he’s given me ninefold the amount of time as you?”

“Oh, and how often do you waste it, you miserable Knave!”

 

**[ * You couldn’t stand any more of this nonsense. ]**

 

“Papyrus” stomped his foot once, then turned a full 180 towards the archway. “Just finish your work. I’ll meet you by The Duchess’ place.”

Even after the tall skeleton stormed out of the room, the smaller one just continued his work. Half of the roses were dripping with red paint, but rather than dry up and look crackly, the paint seemed to seep into their petals and restore their color. Frisk stared in amazement at their bright hues, somehow finding themself feeling inspired by this man’s work.

That’s when “Sans” finally lifted his head and, with his smile widening eerily, announced out loud, “You can come out now, my dear.”

Frisk’s blood suddenly ran cold.

“You must be pretty confused, huh?” the skeleton asked. “Perhaps it is a scary situation. Finding yourself in a place like this, not knowing exactly how you got here, or even how to get out…”

 _He doesn’t mean me, does he?_ Frisk wondered. _No, of course he does. He couldn’t possibly mean anyone else. He’s so much smarter than that. That's what makes him so trustworthy._

_So, why can’t I move?_

Even though he was a friend, they way that he spoke… something about it shook them. There was no reason for it to even be scary. He was acting nice enough. The way he spoke with “Papyrus” was just the same manner that they expected, too. But right now, looking at this monster, they had a brief thought. It was for a split-second, but they still thought it. They thought, perhaps, they were mistaken about all of this.

The skeleton slowly shut his eyes and sighed deeply. When he opened them up again, his slitted pupils locked onto the human.

“Are you waiting for me to come seek you out, dear?” he questioned impatiently.

Having their cover blown, they had no choice but to crawl out of hiding and stand upright by the hidden throne. “Sans” set aside his materials and sat upright to look at the human closely. As he watched, his smile grew wider, and Frisk’s throat became tighter. They weren’t sure if they liked the way he was looking at them. It wasn’t like he was threatening them in any way. It was just… perhaps, his eyes were too… _analytical._ Like he was focusing really hard on something.

He finally relaxed and let out a low chuckle. “My, look at how much you’ve grown!” he cooed. “My little Frisk is no longer so little anymore, it seems. How long has it been since we’ve played with each other, I wonder?...”

Suddenly, they found themself standing face-to-face with him. Frisk didn’t even see “Sans” move, yet here he was. He had a tight grip on their wrists, preventing them from running, which at this point was all they wished they would’ve done a while ago. But all they could do now was stare at the skeleton with eyes wide like saucers. His eyes stared back, piercing into them. Piercing into their soul. It was becoming hard to breathe now.

“Do you remember what happened the last time, Frisk?” he asked calmly. “Do you remember how you were like as a kid? How much fun we used to have back then?”

The skeleton began to giggle. The corners of his mouth stretched. Frisk shivered, then froze entirely as he made his final statement.

“Do you even remember

           how _strange_ you looked

                       when you killed our king?”


	2. A Brief, Lucid Moment

It took a long while for Frisk to properly assess Sans’ words. Or, at least, they wanted to believe this was still “Sans”, but at this point they weren't so sure anymore. Everything around them was kind of the way they used to be, and yet the differences they’ve spotted so far made them feel even more out of place than when they were a kid. The man standing before them felt like a stranger. Not that the situation was threatening per se, but it was uncomfortable at best.

This Sans was very knowing like they knew he would be, and yet his mannerisms were very _unknown_.

The skeleton loosened his grip on their wrists, only to slide his hands down and gently hold theirs. “Pardon me, dear,” he said softly after the moment of quiet shock, “But it's awfully rude of you to leave something like that unaddressed, don't you think?”

Frisk’s eyes snapped open. They glistened like the crimson ends of a fire. Not quite as furious as they should be, but the spark was there. _He_ was upset with _them_ for not answering such cruel questions like that? How funny was that! They expected such a level of bluntness from Undyne maybe, but from a guy like this…

 

**[ * You felt your sins suffocating your lungs. ]**

 

“How could I forget?” the human finally croaked, to their own surprise.

The skeleton’s expression suddenly softened. He squeezed Frisk’s hands gently.

“I’ve missed hearing your voice, Frisk,” he confessed. “But you sound hoarse. You’ve been alone for a long time, huh?”

They didn’t get what he meant by “alone”, but he wasn’t wrong about the hoarseness. After saying those few words, Frisk finally noticed how rashy their throat felt. They coughed softly into their sleeve, trying to alleviate some of the pain. Now it just felt tight and dry.

“So,” Frisk began, voice still trying to regain its composure, “What happened to you and your brother? And what happened to the throne room?”

…

“Sans?”

…

“What are you talking about?” the monster questioned, tilting his head.

Frisk slipped their hands away from his grasp, wearing a look of desperation. “You and Papyrus! You both look so weird. When did you start looking like that?”

“Sans” crinkled his eyes in worry at the human’s questions.

“This room was never like this. There were never roses here, and you don’t just plaster paint on them and expect them to be better!”

He looked at them as if _they_ were the weirdo.

“...what’s going on here, Sans?”

Without giving Frisk an immediate answer, he returned to the roses and continued to paint those that were still lacking color. The human stared at him in disbelief, their cheeks glowing a few shades redder. Was he _ignoring_ them?!

They called his name once more. Then again. And again. Finally, he looked back at them with an empty glare.

“Cut that out already,” he said, bluntly, and annoyed. "You're thinking about this all wrong."

Frisk flinched at the sudden coldness in his words. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” they immediately wondered aloud. They twisted their apron as if to wring out their own embarrassment. It was hard to even look him in the eyes at this point, though his desire to hold their attention was persistent.

“You won't get anywhere by asking 'what is happening' over and over,” he noted. “Why don't you try thinking about 'what _has_ happened?' Go on then, Frisk. Think on it, but think _accurately._ ”

He returned to his work, dabbing his paintbrush into the bucket and carefully dragging strokes of red across one of the pink roses petals. Frisk, still hung up on his words, carefully found their way to the throne and sat themself down. The seat was about three times bigger than them, even though they’ve already grown so much. And as they struggled to find a relaxing position in it, they followed the skeleton’s advice and tried to think--as _accurately_ as they could--about what has happened to them thus far.

 

* * *

 

_I first discovered the Underground on accident. It was several years ago, but I remember it vividly._

_I ran off on my own, playing near the mountains like the folks at home told me not to. I wasn’t good at listening back then, even if I knew they were doing this for my own good. They would tell me tales about what would happen if I fell into the hole at the top, about how monsters would come and tear me apart. I never believed them, though._

_I eventually tripped into the very hole that they warned me about. I don’t remember how long the fall was, or how hard the landing. When I opened my eyes again, everything around me was new and different. It was like some kind of magical dream. Granted, I did almost get into danger at first, but then She came to save me._

_I remember now. Toriel. That was the name of the first monster I befriended._

_I was soon able to learn about the Monsters and how they lived. I talked with a lot of the locals, and I made so many cool friends the further down the line I explored. I had met a funny skeleton named Papyrus who liked to make and solve puzzles. I met a cool fish lady named Undyne who did everything with 110% of her effort. I met an awkward scientist named Alphys who always strove to do what she thought was best for the people around her. I loved them all so dearly, and I felt their love in return._

_I also had this special ability, something that only very few people knew about. I could SAVE at a point that I found significant to me, and if I ever messed up or got killed on accident, I could RESET back to that point. And whenever I did that, it was like whatever happened after that point didn’t matter. No one remembered it._

_I tried not to get too carried away with it. I got clumsy sometimes, though, so I had no choice but to do a couple of RESETS. It wasn’t my intention to hurt people with this power._

_I was really happy then, but I knew that I have to leave at some point. I had to go back where I belonged, back with the humans. To do that, I had to take down the King, Asgore Dreemurr, so I could use his soul to pass the barrier. Every friend I met up until then had warned me about this. I thought I could just put it off. I thought I could just stay in the Underground and play to my heart’s content._

_Eventually, I realized I couldn’t keep doing it._

_It was the first time I really thought carefully about my place in this world. It was the first time I ever felt so bitter since I had gotten there._

_I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to leave._

_All these people that I made friends with, all these people who have had such a huge impact on my life…_

_I wouldn’t get to see them anymore._

_Up until these last couple of months, I had nearly forgotten about it all. I was so close. I could have almost lived a normal life by then. But something was always tugging at the back of my head. There was always some small voice, reminding me of those old times. Reminding me of the things I’ve done._

_I thought I could repress it._

_And yet, somehow, after all of those years, I’m back. I don’t remember how, or even why, but I was back in the place I didn’t belong. Back in the place that was forever changed because of me. Some part of me is kind of glad to be able to revisit this place. Another part is terrified._

_That voice is telling me to “fix” something. It hasn’t stopped nagging since I got here._

_But what is there to “fix” when I don’t even remember what was “broken”?_

 

* * *

 

All of the roses that surrounded the throne were a healthy crimson now. “Sans” listened to Frisk’s story intently, resting his chin on their knee. When they reached the end of their tale, they looked somewhat relieved. Now they had some sort of grasp on what their situation was. It wasn’t solid, but at least it was a start.

Still, something was bugging them to no end. There a was a piece missing to this puzzle.

But where would they find it?

After a moment of silence, the skeleton sighed, “So… you wanted to avoid me that badly?”

“Huh?!”

“Why wouldn’t you come back sooner?” he whined, nudging his cheek against their leg. “You seriously made me wait this long because you didn't want to miss me? How cruel of you, Frisk. How cruel!”

The human was honestly at a loss for words. This… _thing_ couldn’t possibly be one of their close friends, could he?

They leaned in and cupped his face in their hands. He didn’t look surprised. He just stared up at them with innocent eyes. It was only then that Frisk could fully take in just how _awful_ and _mangy_ he looked.

The way his suit shaped his body made him look like an anorexic patient; it was the complete opposite of Papyrus’ well-kept form. Hell, they could even see the detail of his ribcage through the fabric! His cat ears were torn up slightly, and the only bit of fur to be found on his tail was at a tuft on the end. Everything else was basically an extension of his spine, which got Frisk to question the nature of monster skeletons’ anatomy for the first time in a long while. Of course, normal skeletons don’t look like stray cats, but Frisk was mentally exhausted enough to start wondering about it anyway.

Yet he still had that teasing grin and a silly attitude to boot. They were the things they loved and missed so deeply about Sans.

The monster did not pull away from their hold, nor did he seem to want to. He instead settled down in their hands, his eyes shutting lightly. Frisk thought he looked so peaceful sitting on his knees and zoning out like that. And… was that _purring_ they heard? Good _lord._

“Now, don’t you feel a whole lot better after sitting for a few minutes, my dear?” he asked. When Frisk finally nodded, he chuckled quietly. “Good. I’d hate to spend our reunion with you being a frazzled little mess.”

Frisk, slowly getting used to this oddity before them, brushed their thumb against the skeleton’s cheek before asking, “You’re not really Sans, are you?”

He blinked slowly at them. “Do you want me to be Sans?” he whispered with a trembling voice.

That’s all they needed to hear to confirm their fears. This made the fact of how he knew all about them even more jarring. But like the look-alike said, it wasn’t good for Frisk to question the present as often as they had thus far. They decided to put their confusion away for another time.

...They couldn’t believe they were taking advice from a guy who argued with someone else about the personification of a concept.

“No,” he finally answered, backing away. “I am not actually one of your friends from the other side. But, I am still your friend, nonetheless.”

“Okay then,” Frisk slowly said back, more questions brewing in their head. “What am I supposed to call you then?”

The skeleton answered with a contented grin, “Cheshire suits me just fine, I think.”


	3. Unpleasant Faces

Cheshire had to leave Frisk behind in the throne room. As happy as he was to have them back, he couldn't just take them back with him to the Duchess’ place. Not the right time for a surprise, he said. They were still allowed to wander, but he warned them not to go too far. He then left with the cheeriest grin Frisk had seen yet.

 _Well_ , the human thought, _time to get into some trouble._

They plucked one of the red roses on the ground on their way out. The petals didn't feel like they were painted over at all. Rather, they were as soft and leathery as they had expected. They didn't know how it worked, but at the same time it didn't seem to matter. It was… inspiring. Empowering, even. No, even bigger than that…

 

**[ * Though this world makes no sense to you still… ]**

**[ * ...the mystery behind its nature fills you with determination. ]**

 

Yep. There it was.

Tucking the rose behind their ear, the human strode out if the throne room, feeling more energized than when they first arrived.

When they came back to the Last Corridor they found a note sitting on the chest at the other end of the hall. It was left by Cheshire to tell Frisk that he had placed some supplies in the box.

“you probably couldn't wait to start playing again,

so i've taken the liberty of giving you a little toy that i found earlier.

i can't wait to join you later, darling.”

He sure was… _charismatic._ Well, that wasn't actually what they wanted to think, but they decided to be nice. They weren’t sure if the two were on the right level familiarity to call him “cute.”

All that the human found in the chest was a plastic knife and a small package of shortbread cookies. They weren't sure if their companion had the same definition of “play” as they did. Still, the human took the items, tucking the knife away into their pocket before eagerly tearing into the package and moving on.

They discovered the cities of _New Home_ in the next hallway. Or maybe they weren't called that here, but they decided to pretend they still were. The buildings looked the exact same as they remembered it several years ago. They wondered what kind of differences were found in that society. Did the denizens also dress weirdly? How did they behave with one another? How would they react when they learned that another human had entered their territory?

Someone behind them suddenly screeched for their attention. Well, more precisely, they squeaked at them. Frisk turned around almost instantly, only to find a flower sprouting from the ground. A small, lively, golden flower.  _God... damnit._

“Hey, buddy!” the flower yelled. It did not look too pleased. “You're leaving crumbs all over the place. Don't you know that unlicensed loitering around here is a serious crime?”

Frisk looked down at their path, finding fallen pieces of shortbread scattered about. They then proceeded to toss another cookie into their mouth.

“What if I get lost, and needed these crumbs to find my way back?” the human answered sarcastically.

The flower’s eyes widened. It looked caught off guard somehow. But instead of blowing up them, it gave Frisk a bitter sneer. Not that they expected any better, honestly.

“Gee, aren’t _you_ so clever?” the flower mused. “Well, I should have seen it coming. You always thought you were above consequences, after all. You don't even care what happens to your head, do you?”

Frisk was about to retort until they realized... they really didn't care. They didn't want to care what this thing was saying. They were already going to be putting up with more trouble along the way. It would be a better use of their energy to wait until then than wasting it all here. And so they continued down their path, licking up the remains of their cookies from their hand.

But it wouldn't let them off so easily. The human only got a few steps forward before it sprang up out of the ground in front of them. Its eyes had become small, cruel voids.

"Which are you missing, a soul or a brain?" it asked with a garbled and scratchy voice. "Time doesn't just give people a new, clean slate, you know. You don't get a free pass on this."

The flower's mouth curled and sharpened unnaturally. Their face had contorted into something horrifying. Something furious.

"How much longer are you going to play this kind of game?"

This is...

 

**[ * Annoying. ]**

 

Frisk whipped out their toy knife, aiming the tip at the flower’s face. They dropped the weapon as soon as they registered what their body had done. The flower looked visibly shaken, already anticipating its early demise, but then settled down when he noticed their weapon on the floor. The two watched each other in silence, waiting for the other to make a move. Then, finally dropping its menacing act, the flower sighed sorrowfully.

“You really have changed much since last time, Alice.”

_Alice?_

“But that's why I have to keep an eye on you,” it continued quietly. “Who knows what will happen now that you're back? If I let you get out of hand again, our Wonderland will…”

He looked off to the side, towards the city. He would have broke out into a cold sweat if he could. Frisk couldn't help but reflect his face of fear.

_"Our” Wonderland?..._

“You know, I can't kill you, even if I wanted to,” he admitted solemnly. “It's not that it isn't ‘right’, but I know it wouldn't work. So, if you can just listen to me for a second…”

“Flowey,” Frisk called sternly.

The flower snapped to attention, its beady little eyes growing twice as big. Frisk tried not to let their annoyance show on their face, but they already felt the creases in their brows. There was already so much going around them. They didn't need Flowey or _whoever the heck he wanted to be called_ to suddenly get on their case over whatever it is they did back then. What could they have possibly even done to make him revere them as the devil?

“I’m not going to… do anything,” they began slowly. “I’m just going to find my friends, get my bearings, then… try to find a way out of here again. I won't tell San-- _Cheshire_ , if that's what you're worried about. So, do me a favor and bug off, will you?”

…

“S-so you're with him.” Flowey tried to keep his grin up, but he was shivering. “H-haha… Oh, golly… _o-oh,_ **_god_ ** _…_ ”

Before Frisk could question the flower, he shrank down into the ground.

 

* * *

 

The human made a relatively easy escape out of New Home and into what they thought was the Hotel. Though they did finally find some other monsters roaming around, it didn't look like a place of rest. Actually it didn't look like a place they planned on resting at ever.

Most of the lobby was consumed by a purple fog that smelled like rich buttercream icing and custard. They could make out some of the tenants chasing each other around within it. Many were laughing. Some stuck to the walls, painting all sorts of graffiti on them. They swore they heard someone crying down the hall to their left, but they refused to investigate out of fear for their sanity.

In the middle of the room sat a fountain, as well as the presumed source of the fog. Plumes of purple smoke spewed out of the statue. Upon closer inspection, they could see that the statue was made to resemble three different hats stacked upon each other; The one on top was elaborately decorated with flowers, pearls, and a bit of fishnets hanging off the side; The one just below it was bejeweled and sparkled intensely past the fog; The bottom hat was a simple top hat, although Frisk appreciated the classic charm of it nonetheless.

The longer they stared ahead of them, the more their vision began to blur. It was getting a little hard to breathe. They could taste the confectionaries in their lungs. _This fog is messing me up_.

They slowly inched away from the statue, stumbling into some of the wandering monsters. They ended up standing next to an orange cat monster wearing what they could only assume was a suit made from mismatched rags sewn together. He had tucked himself away by the corner, holding a sapphire blue pen to his lips, which Frisk soon realized was a flashy vape pen. Why on earth he found the need to smoke when one could get high by just being in this room astounded them.

“‘Scuse me, sir,” Frisk slurred. “D… D’you know I can find th’ Duchess’ home?”

The cat glanced over at the human and cackled. “My dude, you sure you want to visit her in that condition?” he questioned in a raspy voice. “You're, like, super out of it.”

The human had to prop themself against the wall and take a deep breath before continuing the conversation. “How’re you not?”

The cat took another toke of his cigarette. The ring of smoke he blew dissolved into the fog. “When you start feeling as numb as I have the past twenty years, you’ll understand.”

Frisk wasn’t sure how much more of this they could take.

Seeing the human begin to wilt, the cat snuffed out his cigarette against the wall and tossed it into the nearest trash can before escorting them outside. Their first step past the double doors was like emerging from the ocean. Once the monster let them go, they collapsed on all fours in a fit of coughs. After they got all of that poison out of their system, they took big gulps of that sweet, fresh air.

The cat awkwardly squatted down by the human. “First time visiting the loony bin, eh?”

“Is that what that place is?” Frisk sputtered as they sat up.

The cat shook his head. “Nah, but it might as well be. People come and go here whenever they need a break from the daily grind. Kinda like a nightclub, I guess. I’ve been keeping watch of the place for a few months now.”

“Why?” the human found themself asking.

“Well, uh…” The cat wore a disgustingly nervous smile as they leaned in close. “Between you and me, dude, it was never my choice. That bitch of a governess Gryphon sent me here because I ‘killed the time’ with my performance. Called my broadway sample trash! Can you believe it?”

Frisk shook their head to be nice.

“Anyways, she was about to go off on me before the Duchess swooped in and offered and alternative,” babbled the cat. “Some community service so I can learn how to gauge a crowd. I was only sentenced here for a month, but these lil’ weirdos sort of grew on me. And that’s how ol’ Patrick here nearly escaped the Gryphon’s wrath.”

The monster wore a triumphant smile. Well, Frisk thought it was supposed to be triumphant. His face kind of… melted and smooshed in unnatural ways anytime he changed expressions. It was honestly a challenge looking directly at him for a full minute. His only saving grace was that he was the first person they talked to that didn’t bring them on the verge of a migraine.

“Ah, shit, where are my manners?” he suddenly put out his hand. “Don’t believe I got your name, newbie.”

“Oh, right. I’m Frisk.”

And so they shook his hand, officially establishing what was for lack of better words a budding friendship between the two.

“You said you needed directions to the Duchess’ place?” Patrick recalled. “I can take you there in a jiffy, but I think I heard she was having an important meeting with… _ahem_ … Madam Gryphon. She might not be ready to talk with a stranger like yerself.”

As the two got up and got going, Frisk caught a quick glimpse at the sign above the door to the resort. There stood the words “A Merry Unbirthday” written in cursive and flashing bright magenta. They made a mental note never to accept an invite to a place like this again if someone asked them.

Ahead of the pair was a land full of hot steam and other mechanical contraptions. Thankfully, there wasn’t much in terms of obvious different to Hotland, although it definitely wasn’t their most favorite area. Lucky thing there was extra transportation so they didn’t have to fiddle with all of those puzzles and heat. Especially the heat.

“Hey, since I’ve got ahold of you, could you tell me more about those two?” Frisk requested as soon as they boarded the elevator. “Um, about this Gryphon lady and the Duchess.”

Patrick cocked a brow at the human. “Did the vapor mess you up that badly, dude? They’re the rulers of Wonderland. Gryphon does the dirty work while Duchess is more into civil disputes and whatever. They’re no King or Queen of Hearts, but they’ve done well for us so far. Just kinda wish Gryphon wouldn’t go so hard on us.”

The human hummed along with his points. “Is she really as harsh as you say she is?”

Aaaand there was that horrifying smile again, although with a hint of cynicism this time. The effect was doubled as Patrick wrapped an arm around around their shoulders.

“Take it from me, pal,” he insisted with an oh so lovely voice crack. “You do _not_ want to piss off Gryphon. Play along with her rules or else... well, I've heard they've found a way to preserve a monster head before the entire body crumbles, like a sick kind of trophy. And you don't want to end up like those suckers, do ya?”

Frisk shook their head frantically, all the while breaking out into a cold sweat.

 

**[ * You suddenly feel like this adventure isn’t going to be as fun as last time. ]**


	4. The Meeting

_The human is back,_

_the human is back,_

_the human is back!..._

This was the only thought that occupied Cheshire’s skull. Even just thinking of their name brought a sweet, enchanted smile to his face. He was completely oblivious to the monsters that raved around him on his way out to The Ostewary.

_Darling little Frisk… I’ve missed them too long._

_We can play together again, be close with one another again…_

The cat believed that Wonderland had become a dull place lately. Whatever new thing happened in this world only lasted for a few days, maybe a week at most. None of that time compared to nearly a decade of quiet. Even when Cheshire tried to make his own noise, it either fizzled out or was silenced by Madam Gryphon or Jacque Rabbit. Honestly, those two were such killjoys nowadays!

But now that he found the person who once made them so fun, he could revive the energy of this world.

_...Perhaps we can even amend what we have for so long tried to mend ourselves?_

He blinked excitedly throughout the area, several times pretending to fall into the lava below before evaporating and reforming on the next rocky platform. He performed many of these stunts for himself, controlled solely by his heart. Whatever it commanded, however way it beat, his body had to follow.

He flipped several times in the air, as if thrown up there by an ice skater.

He twirled about in the caves that he claimed as his stage.

He even did the old swoop-so-low-you-almost-skim-the-surface-of-danger-but-never-do trick. All the way until he reached the Duchess’ home, where he found his best friend waiting for him.

Cheshire must have been early this time since his tall fellow wasn't closely monitoring his pocket watch like he usually would. He gave the cat a wide smile upon seeing him, evidently pleased with his timeliness. Cheshire returned the pleasant look.

“Hope you haven't been waiting too long, Jacque,” the cat called.

“I must say, Cheshire, you've been quite up and at ‘em in the last week,” the rabbit noted. “First you offered to help Mary with her errands, and now you've actually heeded the hour. This improvement in behavior is… well, it's impeccable!”

Cheshire floated alongside his companion through the door, purring from the praise.

There by the large desk inside were the two rulers. The Duchess and Madam Gryphon were engaged in intensive conversation, unaware of their guests’ presence. The Duchess held up several pieces of paper and one single blueprint, pointing to details as she rambled. Her partner would nod and sometimes bring up a point of criticism, which the Duchess would scribble down quickly in red ink.

Jacque wasted no time to announce his reveal. “Duchess! Madam Gryphon! Thy loyal servants have arrived, as requested.”

The Duchess screeched in surprise, dropping all of her papers. While Madam Gryphon helped to pick them up, the stout ruler fixed the glasses on her face and looked towards her guests.

“O-oh, Jacque and Cheshire! You're just in time.” She gestured towards the loveseats opposite her side of the table. “Please, seat yourselves. I was just giving Lorina a little rundown of my plans…”

Jacque took his seat, giving a quick apology to the armor-clad governess. Cheshire on the other hand just kept on floating, shifting himself in a way to look like he was laying on his stomach. Once everyone had settled in, the meeting was officially in session.

“Now then,” the Duchess began, “Lorina has just received reports about more Nightmare sightings in the forests of The Yule. We've seen a lot of these reports come in within the last year, and we're already getting low on supplies to treat the preexisting victims. We can't let more casualties slip by.”

“We have to focus in giving ourselves better defenses,” Madam Gryphon added. “We can't just give these people swords and expect them to know how to fight. At the same time, we still don't know what these things are after, so there's no way to bait them out. The least we can do is figure out what they're weak against.”

The servants carefully scanned the Duchess’ writing. She had come up with several pages on these Nightmares, where they came from, and how they operated. On the single blueprint were diagrams of the few known ways to exterminate them alongside a long string of theories of other possible means. Jacque shifted in his seat nervously while he took the whole situation in at once. His feline companion gently patted the back of his skull.

The room fell into dumbfounded silence.

Cheshire then suddenly blurted, “We already have the answer to our problem. We've had one for a while now.”

Everyone looked his way. He had propped his head up on his elbows, his skeletal tail swaying slowly behind him. Not once had his smile faltered.

Madam Gryphon shot him a suspicious look. “You had better be sure, otherwise I'll carve out your marrow.”

Cheshire giggled at her threats, rolling over on his back and snatching the blueprints from Jacques hands. He quickly skimmed the contents of the page again as he drifted directly above the desk. Madam Gryphon watched him with her arms crossed in front of her chest while the other two sat quietly and awaited his “answer.”

“It says here that Nightmares can be incapacitated by standard weaponry. However, only through a certain type of energy can you permanently extinguish them,” he stated. “This energy was found in only two types of people: members of the royal family, and humans. Therefore, the key is within one of them, no?”

The Duchess traded curious looks with Madam Gryphon. The latter looked away quickly after and sighed into her gloved hand. They both looked uncertain.

“Think about it,” the cat insisted, his voice raising with excitement. “The royals may be gone, but hope is not lost. We get one of these humans to join us, and then we won't worry about these Nightmares again.”

“Hold on now, Cheshire,” Jacque interrupted. “Your claims have some merit, I'll give you that, but we can't simply summon a human anytime we want. Our world did not give us such capabilities.”

The Duchess nodded in agreement. “Even if we could do such things, the human may pose a threat if they're left unsupervised. The power of just one may not even be enough to totally annihilate these beasts…”

“...on the other hand, too much of that power and we could end up with another one of _those_ incidents,” Madam Gryphon concluded.

All three of them sat there, waiting for the cats answer. He looked back down at them with this awful wide-eyed expression. It hurt to look into his eyes.

“I understand,” he muttered suddenly. “It was just a passing thought, anyway. I guess I… I guess I'm just desperate.”

As Cheshire slowly lowered himself into the seat next to Jacque, the Duchess’ eyes lit up. “Maybe your thought isn't all for naught, my little brainiac kitty.”

“Oh?”

She began to scribble something on the back of her notes. No one in the room could keep up with how fast her hand went. They couldn't really see what she wrote down since she covered her work with her free arm. When she did finally reveal her work, the other three looked on intently.

“Say we find something that can mimic this special energy of theirs,” she started with a confident toothy grin. “Either something that the royal family left behind, or the right ingredients to create a replica. If we get a hold of enough of that and create a few beacons out of it, it should be able to keep these Nightmares from coming into the villages. Make enough of these for each location, and we might be good for the long haul.”

Jacque loudly applauded her work. The other two simply gave their nod of approval.

“Bravo! Just the kind of quick thinking I expected from our brilliant ruler!”

“This just might work somehow…!”

“You sure know how to make your plans sound purr-suasive, meowster.”

“...Cheshire, did you just--”

The Duchess shot up from her seat. “Mister Rabbit, send word to the guards: whatever the Nightmares stay away from, carry it back here. Return with as many loads as you can.”

“A-aye aye, ma’am!” Jacque sprang up from his seat as well. He bowed to everyone (and caught his hat from falling off his skull) before taking off outside at top speed towards the west door.

Madam Gryphon pushed herself onto her feet, following after the rabbit. “I’d better make sure he doesn't trip into someone's mudpies like last time.”

Cheshire was about to make his leave back through the eastern exit when he saw his master beckon him over. When he drew near, she gave him a proud pat on the head.

“Thank you again for your help, Chessie,” she praised. “I know I'm supposed to be the one running things here, but I couldn't do it without you or Lorina... a-and Mister Rabbit, of course!”

Cheshire drew even closer, gently tapping his teeth against her forehead. “Think nothing of it, Edith. In truth, I'm just as selfish as any other feline would be. It only makes sense I would do things that keep me happy.”

“Yes, but…” The Duchess paused. “Cheshire…”

“Yes, master?”

“Is something troubling you?” she inquired rather hushedly. “You seemed to go stiff for a moment. Don't tell me you've a case of rigor mortis?”

Cheshire just grinned at his master, floating away from her. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as a large metallic building showed up in the distance, Patrick had given Frisk two thumbs up before retreating back to his original place. He didn’t even specify if this was the right destination or what, just a “good luck” and he’s gone. The human was left to stand there with their anxiety, unable to move forward for a good long while. There was no way around the building, they didn’t know the interior of it enough to sneak around if they needed to…

_Let’s just get this over with._

Right as they took their first step ahead, they saw someone faze through the door. A certain someone clad in black and with a strange tail.

“Cheshire!”

Frisk made a beeline towards the skeleton, swinging their arms open wide. The other had only a few moments to register their approach before catching them in a tight embrace. Although very surprised, he returned their tight hug for a whole minute.

“Have I been gone that long?” he questioned teasingly before pulling away enough to see their face. “I didn’t mean to… oh, dear, you look frazzled. Did you meet some bad men?”

The human shook their head, not as an answer but as if breaking out of a trance. They looked down at their arms wrapped around him, then back at Cheshire’s worried expression. Very slowly they pried themself away from him and folded their hands behind their back. A light blush spread across their cheeks.

“Sorry,” they sputtered. “I--I’m, ahm… I’m fine, Cheshire. Probably dizzy from the heat or something.”

Cheshire nodded in understanding. He briefly looked back at the building behind him, his face suddenly scrunching in deep thought.

“Maybe…”

“Huh?”

“Frisk, I have a favor to ask of you.” Keeping an arm locked around their shoulders, he pointed towards the door. “I just got done speaking with my master in there. She’s a brilliant woman, I promise. Lately, however, she’s been so distressed about something, and I’m no good with distractions, you see. If you can go in there and speak with her, it would really make my day.”

 _He has a master?_ Frisk glanced warily at the two-story building in front of them. They don’t know which idea sounded scarier: coming across a deathly tyrant lady, or having to speak with another loony. There was no better of the two evil’s either, both seemed equally horrendous.

Cheshire gently rubbed their shoulders, nudging them close to the door. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll be watching closely in case things go sour.”

 _Sigh_.

The human puffed out their chest and, mustering all of the strength in them, approached the door and grabbed the handle. Right before Cheshire disappeared into thin air behind them, they heard him whisper close into their ear.

“By the way, darling," he cooed lowly, "that rose in your hair makes you absolutely enticing.”

They shivered.

The door swung upon, and a rush of cool air overcame them. Up ahead was a short and stout yellow lizard monster sitting at a rather large desk. Judging by her fine red robes and rather strange looking veil, this must have been a person of nobility. She didn’t appear to notice the human’s entrance, too occupied in her paperwork.

Frisk carefully and quietly shut the door behind them. They took the moment to scan the room. The place admittedly could use a little sprucing up, but otherwise it was a rather pleasant home. The walls were decorated with quaint tapestries, and there were all sorts of cute knick-knacks on the shelves. It felt warm in a nicer sense than outside.

The human tightly gripped their apron, taking one more deep breath before calling out to the woman. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

The monster jumped in her seat, screeching rather shrilly. Her head swiveled to face the human, and quickly her face changed from pure shock to a nervous but pleasant look.

“Oh! Pardon me. I didn’t notice you come in.” She carefully sled herself off her loveseat (only then did Frisk realize her feet didn’t even touch the floor from there) and shuffled towards her new guest. “What can I help you with, citizen?”

“Actually, I’m new here,” they answered, suddenly at ease with her cheerful demeanor. “I was told I should come speak with you, miss… um, what is your name, actually?”

The woman blinked a couple of times at them. She then turned away for a moment, covering her mouth as she giggled to herself, “You have _really_ got to get out more. Geez…”

Once she regained her composure and readjusted her glasses, she beamed at the confused human.

“You may call me Edith if you’d like. Although, most people know me as 'The Duchess.'”


	5. Having Supper with The Duchess

Somehow, after some small talk, Frisk found themself sitting across the desk from the Duchess and sipping a fresh cup of honey-milk tea. She had crammed her papers off to the side to make room for platefuls of snacks, which the human helped themself to with glee. The Duchess on the other hand sat there and watched the human, twiddling her thumbs, wearing a thoughtful look.

“So…” Her eyes darted around the room while she tried to come up with a topic. “How did your find your way here, human?”

Pausing just before gobbling up a rainbow-chip cookie, the human answered, “I just happened to wake up near the city here, and I heard that you were the head honcho. I, uh, figured you'd be able to help me out some.”

The Duchess nodded in understanding, reaching for a snickerdoodle from the plates. “It's been awhile since we've had one of your kind visit here. And I mean a _long_ while. It's a nice change of pace, to be honest.”

Frisk smiled fondly at her, taking another sip of their tea.

Again, the lizard’s eyes went all over the place while they enjoyed their… well, at this time of day it would probably be considered their “dinner.” She looked toward the ceiling, then to the precious china on the shelves, and so on. Several times her eyes flicked over her blueprints. Words spiraled around in her heading from that meeting just a while ago, but her grinding teeth refused to lend them her voice.

“Ah… I met your cat earlier, by the way,” Frisk muttered hesitantly.

“Did you?” The Duchess snapped out of her daze, forcefully widening her smile. “I always lose track of him. He's quite a sociable guy, you know. Always eager to meet a new face.”

 _So you'd call him “sociable,”_ Frisk noted to themself. _Sure. Let's go with that._

“...A-actually, we were just, um, talking with some other friends about an issue. An issue that… maybe you can help with?” she suggested, unable to look them in the eye.

Even though Frisk had only just arrived, and they've barely begun to grasp the bizarre nature of this world, they couldn't really find the nerve to say no to the lady. Right here and now, according to this world's laws, this monster was “The Duchess.” They knew this explicitly. However, when they looked up at her and her goofy smile, they kept thinking “Alphys.” And just like her, this look-alike only seemed to mean well.

A quick nod was all she needed to get going. “Before I bore you with the details, have you heard or seen anything strange on your way here?”

_Literally everything._

“No,” the human said. “Nothing that would really cause alarm. Why?”

The Duchess paused to think upon her words. She paused for an awfully long time… Suddenly, she started shuffling the papers on the side of the desk, pulling out a coupleof select pages of notes and sketches. She held one of these drawings towards the human.

They could hardly make out a single clear detail in the sketch. All they saw in it was some dark, amorphous figure that seemed to both melt and give off a smoky substance. Not that they had the heart to say it out loud, but it honestly looked like a generic drawing done by an elementary kid. Judging by the look of the artist in front of them, though it was probably a lot more serious than they took it.

“We've had these show up around Wonderland for a long time,” The Duchess explained. “They've been showing up all over the place, ever since the Royal Family fell apart. We call them Nightmares, as they appear to cause people to fall into some frantic trance. About sixty-five percent of them just fall into a, uh… ‘anxious’ state, but it's nothing a little lavender can't fix.”

Frisk, shifting nervously in their seat, dared to ask, “What about the other thirty-five percent?”

The Duchess seemed to ignore their question. They bit their lip.

“What I want to ask you is… well, if you're willing to help us with the plan we've got so far.” She then showed the human her recent set of notes. “I've just sent instructions to the guards to find anything that might want to scare them off. Not, like, flashing lights or anything like that, but something with a powerful aura. Something that... radiates with a sense of strong ‘will’.”

A light flickered in Frisk’s head.

“Do you mean ‘Determination’?”

The Duchess’s eyes lit up at the word. “Determination… hey, I like the sound of that! Gotta write that one down here…”

Frisk leaned back in their loveseat, somewhat perplexed by their sudden blurtage, yet also proud. They drank up the last of their beverage just as the monster finished writing down extra notes.

“...aaand that should cover it. Now then--”

A loud crash was heard from the second floor. The two cocked their heads up at the upper ledge, then quickly moved away from the desk as pink gloop came down and splattered onto their plates of cookies. The Duchess groaned frustratingly, tightly yanking on her veil.

“That damn machine! It's bugging out again!” she screeched. The human had to cover their ears. Wilder yet, she suddenly turned to Frisk with a sweet smile and excuse herself before turning towards the stairs with the look of murder.

Reluctantly, yet so damn curious, Frisk approached the substance on the desk. It looked gelatinous, like some Pepto-Bismol got mixed into rice pudding, although they imagined this would have the opposite effect on their stomach.

Right as they went to touch it (god knows why that came to their mind), a hand assembled itself out of smoke and shoved theirs aside. It scooped up a cookie coated in the pink slop and fed it to the just-now assembled, also dismembered and floating head of Cheshire. Frisk covered their mouth.

“You know, dear, I've got to hand it to that woman,” he said with mouth stuffed up with goop as the rest of his body began to fade in, “this ice cream pairs splendidly with cinnamon. I wonder what secret ingredient she's been using.”

…

“Cheshire.”

“Yes, love?”

“What the _hell_ was that for?” Frisk hissed.

Cheshire licked up the rest of the so-called ice cream from his fingers before stating, “I needed to get Edith out of the room so I could give you a heads up.”

“Head's up for what?!” they demanded. “And could you not have just, I don't know, spilled something on me so I could just hide in the bathroom?”

The cat paused to consider their idea. “Too boring. This plan is far yummier. Anyway, get ready for _phase deux_.”

Before the human could blow up at their companion, The Duchess came back downstairs. She didn't even peep at the cat's presence, giving him a quick “hello again” as he ate more ice cream by the handful. Truly a disgusting creature.

_How did I come to respect this guy again._

“Now then, about this little problem...” The Duchess began to say, until another noise went off. The sound was akin to the cutesy bell chimes of a cell phone ringtone, but the sound was clear enough that the source had to be in plain sight, yet Frisk saw nothing. The Duchess groaned loudly and flicked her wrist at Cheshire, who then proceeded to float up towards the tapestry curtains that hung over her messied desk. He parted the curtains to reveal a large mirror frame, and at first it certainly acted like a normal mirror. Then, after gliding his fingers across an orb lodged into the bottom of the frame, a new image rippled onto the glass.

There, reflecting back to Frisk and the Duchess, was the blue head of a siren with a heart-shaped eyepatch. Her image was trembling, as whatever she was using to contact them was handheld. She herself seemed rather frazzled.

“Edith, thank god! We need some help over here,” urged the warrior. “We found a clutter of those bastards down by the Weepmire. I've gotten them out of the way of the village, but I need an extra hand to take ‘em down.”

“I--got it!” The Duchess ordered Cheshire to turn the transmission off, and soon enough the screen returned to a normal reflection of the three. Looking back at the queen standing there in quite a tizzy, Cheshire floated to her side and gripped her shoulder.

“Don't you worry about a thing, master,” he assured. “The human and I shall take care of this. I won't let any harm come to your beloved.”

“Th-thank you, Chessie.”

The cat released then drifted to the western door. He looked back cooly and gestured at the human to follow. They only got a couple of steps ahead before the Duchess took hold of their arm.

“W-wait, I haven't yet gotten your name!” she reminded. “I need to know how to properly address our soon-to-be hero, after all.”

Frisk was about to answer, but their ears began to ring. It was more than a brief sensation. It actually hurt, like an alarm sounding off near their eardrums. Their hands wouldn't go up to cover them, however.

All of a sudden, their vision was blurry. Then it became black.

Their lips moved, but they couldn't hear themself.

Their heart seemed to almost beat out of their chest. Did they pass out or something? No one called out to them, or at least they couldn't hear anyone do so. _Was there something in that tea that I wasn't aware of?_

They couldn't even feel their limbs moving, but somehow they knew they did. Their body didn't respond to their controls. It was no longer theirs.

_What's going on? Where did she go?_

_Am I still…?_

 

**[ * Your friend is talking to you right now. ]**

 

“You remembered to grab your toy back at the castle, I hope?” Cheshire questioned right beside them.

Frisk suddenly tripped over their own feet. They weren't even walking when they finally broke out of their little fit. Somehow, they found themself standing at the entrance of a dark and cool tunnel, and now they were falling to the floor. Or at least they would have if Cheshire hadn't swooped down to catch them.

“Are you alright?” he asked, setting them upright.

“Y...yeah,” they answered unsurely. “No. Yup. I'm cool. I’ve got a knife.”

The skeleton, though chuckling, shook his head at the human, taking them by the hand and leading them into the rocky tunnel. Cool, wet air wafted through the entrance, making the sweat on the human's body more obvious and pasty.

“By the way, good job playing it safe back there,” Cheshire mentioned.

Frisk looked up at the back of his skull. “What do you mean?”

“Well, even I have to admit that alias you chose was rather gutsy,” he explained, "but it seemed to work in your favor. Edith almost completely fell in favor for you. After she realized she wasn't talking to a ghost, of course.”

Their surroundings got darker and darker, which prompted Frisk to pick up their pace enough to be able to cling to his arm. He made no comment towards it, simply purring. Eventually they spotted glowing mushrooms and drooping flowers complementing their path. It was a whole new world away from that lava infested land. Frisk was somewhat calmed by the sight.

“What alias did I choose again?” they asked quietly.

Cheshire eyed the human at their side, smiling cooly. “Don't tell me you didn't intend on remembering it?” He shook his head once again. “You can't go back to an hour ago, dear. You're a different person now.”

The human asked again, “Who am I, then?”

Cheshire paused to turn to them and flash one of his playfully sweet smiles.

“Why, you're our new ‘ **Alice** ’, of course.”

He pulled them along the path, speeding up considerably. They could only follow along, wondering when they called themself that ever. Behind them, soft whispers echoed the strange name over and over, like they were calling out to “them.”


	6. What Happens to the Thirty-Five Percent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for some body mutilation. yup, the author is finally trying to be spooky (i think). the moment doesn't last long but just to be safe.  
> thanks also to the people who are enjoying this fic so far! i'm glad you guys are on board with this edge.  
> anyway. let's get to the goods.

_This is what I know has happened to be so far._

_I woke up in a world I once knew as a child. My memories of it have changed, I think. That, or the world itself has changed. Everyone and everything around me feels like it came from a fairytale, and I've become the “protagonist” that goes to save their world once again._

_No, this isn't really "my" world, and these aren't really "my" friends. It's just as he said; he isn't who he looks like he does. These people use my friends' faces, but inside they're strangers. For all I know, they could be using these faces against me somehow._

_Why am I playing along with all of this, then? I could just say no. These people aren't my concern. I shouldn't be fighting their battles._

_…_

_… …_

_... ... ..._

_But I just can't._

_I'm too curious…_

 

* * *

 

“Hey, do you see that up ahead?” Frisk pointed out to Cheshire.

They sped through the wetlands of this cave long enough. There was finally a clearing in sight, with some vibrant pools visible here and there among the darkened grass. In the middle of it all were several figures, but only two were distinguishable.

They spotted “Papyrus” cowering several meters away from the armor-clad woman fending off the other figures. Her red cape and ponytail flapped wildly behind her as she swung her halberd at their necks. She never let them get close to her,  leaping back for every time they dragged their feet. The creatures never seemed to actively attack her. Rather, they looked like they were reaching out to her, _begging_ to her even, but for what reason was a mystery to them.

Frisk and Cheshire traded looks, one of uncertainty and the other of reassurance. The latter then sped towards the woman, leaving his companion to watch the spectacle that was happening before them.

Bright cyan magic crackled between the joints of his hands first, then that magic became matter that enveloped his arms like gauntlets. These new hands of his were armed with long, sharp claws that he used to swipe at the darkened creatures with glee. The woman stumbled back from him, but caught her footing with her spear..

“Are you all that she sent?” she questioned in surprise.

“No, ma’am.” He snatched one of the dark figures and tore it apart. “I also brought in a new recruit. You should go and say hello.”

The woman turned around, looking frantically behind her until she finally spotted Frisk watching from the distance. Her one eye widened and her grip on her spear became tighter. There was a familiar fury in her gaze, and it froze them down to their core.

“A… human?!” she cried. “Where did you get that? What good are they going to do for--”

“Madam, to your left!”

She swiveled away from one if the dark figures’ grasp, hoisting “Papyrus” up with one arm as she retreated to Frisk’s side. Cheshire was close to finishing his work by then, surrounding himself with puddles of dark grey muck. The creatures around him exploded into translucent chunks and liquids with a single hit. And whenever he turned at just the right angle, Frisk could see his eyes flare up with spectacular ferocity, pairing well with his manic smirk. For a brief moment, they thought back to the corridor from an hour ago.

The cat quickly slayed the last of the standing creatures. He stood there for another few seconds, looking up towards the starry sky and basking in his mess. The woman hesitated to approach him until his ectoplasmic claws melted away.

“If you had any flesh, I'd have Edith neuter you,” she snarled.

Cheshire simply shrugged his shoulders, sweeping off some of the residue from his suit. “You actually can do it still, but I'm not feeling masochistic, so no thank you.”

The woman snatched his collar, yanking him up off his feet and to her face. “Did you even bother to prepare whatever shitty scheme you got?”

While he was getting bickered at, Frisk noticed something at his feet. Something crawled out of the puddles, although it was much smaller than the rest of the foes they faced. It waved its arms around in the air, bubbling and whining voicelessly at the monsters.

“Um… Und…” they began to say. “I mean, miss…?”

“Madam Gryphon, there's one left,” the lanky skeleton said for them, pointing a shaky finger at the goopy creature reaching for Cheshire’s ankle.

Without a second thought, the warrior threw the cat aside, though he seemed to just spin about as if in zero gravity. Then, with an aggressive air to her, she went over and took Frisk by the arm. Her tight grip made them wince, especially as she dragged them back to where the ghastly being writhed and threw them at the ground near it.

“Let's see what this human can do for us then,” she said coldly. “If you truly have the balls to let them do it alone, that is.”

Cheshire gritted his teeth.

“Madam, don't you think this is a bit harsh?” the other skeleton asked nervously. "Maybe you would rather I have a go, just for training purposes you mentioned?"

But Madam Gryphon barked back, “Can it, Rabbit!”

The human pushed themself to their feet, taking a precautionary step back from the globby thing before them. Even up close, they could find no defining features, just some reflective grey muck that shimmered like gasoline. Actually, up close, the creature looked rather pathetic flailing around like it did. Still, they took out the toy knife they stored in their pocket and took a defensive stance.

…

They took another look at their “weapon.” They could literally bend the "blade", and it would bounce back into shape with a noticeable crease in the plastic.

“I can’t kill it with this,” they said.

“Don’t make excuses to wuss out, human,” Madam Gryphon scolded several meters behind them. “You’re more powerful than you think. Just slay it already.”

 _Was that meant to be encouraging?_ Still unsure of themself, they looked back at the monsters watching from afar. The madwoman who put them up to this glared at them impatiently, while Cheshire… wasn’t even looking. They couldn’t see his face. To his right, the bunny-eared skeleton stood straight upwards with his chest puffed out and one fist clenched in the air.

“You can do this, human,” he called out. “I believe in you!”

 **I BELIEVE IN YOU!** echoed his voice behind them.

A large, gloved hand clamped down on them from behind and forced them to turn around.

 

Frisk’s eyes snapped open as they fell back shrieking.

Behind them, the monsters got antsy. Madam Gryphon wiped their eyes furiously, utterly baffled by the sight. The rabbit on the other hand questioned aloud why the newly formed creature copied his voice. Cheshire hid his face and covered his ears.

 **WHY DO YOU RUN FROM ME?** wailed the melting skeleton. **DON’T YOU REMEMBER ME, HUMAN?**

Oil-like substance gushed out of its neck and fell to the human’s face. They wiped it off frantically before pointing their knife at the abomination. They screamed at it, telling them to stay back.

**WHY DO YOU NOT WANT TO SEE ME AGAIN?**

It shambled closer, collapsing on its knees and looming over the human. Tears streamed down from their eyes. They could feel the flower in their hair begin to wilt.

They cried out for Cheshire to help them. But he didn't come.

**YOU SHOULDN’T RUN FROM ME, FRISK.**

Something was screaming right into their ears. Their ears rang and their vision blurred, but they were still conscious. Past the dark figure, they could see terrifying visions of a time they didn’t recognize. Their breath was straining too much to let them keep a steady aim.

**AFTER ALL,**

**YOU WERE THE ONE WHO DESERTED ME,**

**SO I BELIEVE IN YOU**

**TO LET ME DO WHAT I  H A V E T O--**

With a desperate war cry, they plunged their knife into the shadow’s neck. It stumbled back, gurgling and convulsing. The human pushed themself up and yanked the knife out of them, only to keep piercing and slicing into its ribcage. The creature tried to push the human off them with its one arm, but to no avail. They both screamed agonizingly. The human's voice wavered as soon as the creature's form crumbled and melted back into the pools below.

But even after they took care of that hallucination, they saw and heard things they didn't want to. They "saw" a skull sitting in the muck, staring up at them with judging eyes. The voice in the back of their head asked them "Why?" over and over. Without even looking back, they could "feel" the furious eyes of their friends burning into their back. The horrid combo gave them a splitting headache that stung particularly harshly in their eyes. Panting and desperate, they did what they had to do.

 

**[ * You took the knife and held your breath. ]**

 

Madam Gryphon swore into her hand, yet was unable to pry her eyes from the human. She didn't respond to when the lanky skeleton clung to her leg and plead for her to make them stop. In truth, she wanted to go over there and give that human a good slap across the face. She just couldn't find the courage to get her legs moving.

When all had quieted down, and there was absolutely no sign of revival from the puddles of muck, the human slowly rose to their feet. They dropped their bloodied knife by their own feet, then they twirled around to face their companions with a crooked smile. They tried to wink at them.

Of course, that was kind of hard to do when one of your eyes is a bleeding, gaping hole.

“So, how did I do?”

The others didn't know what to say to them.

Suddenly, the rabbit stood and straightened out his suit. Again, he put in the most confident facade he could and answered them. “You displayed insurmountable strength, human. Although… next time, it would make me feel better if you didn't act upon someone with my voice so harshly.”

Beside him, the cat who had stayed silent for so long now was mumbling something. He had curled himself into a ball in the air, ears turned down and the end of his tail flicking rapidly. As the rabbit was too worried to approach, Madam Gryphon leaned in closer to the monster.

“Put them down,” he whispered.

“What?” She cocked her head closer. “What are you--”

“Put them down, Lorina ,” he repeated with a sudden forcefulness. “Please.”

She glanced back at the human, who had sat back down in the muck and was trying to dig the plastic knife into their right arm. “ _Itchy_ ,” they kept saying to themself. The woman grimaced at the sight, but urged herself to move forward towards them.

They didn't look up until she cleared her throat. By then, she had already summoned her spear and held it above their head.

“Just hold still, alright?” she asked quietly. “This will only hurt for a moment.”

Frisk looked frightful at first, but then they gave her an amused smile. The light was already gone from their one eye, and the rose they wore as an accessory had wore only half of its original vibrancy.

“You look as cool as before, Undyne,” they giggled before getting pierced through the heart by the tip of her weapon.


	7. Some Things Are Simply Inevitable

Frisk awoke on a worn yet comforting bed, in a dimly lit room. The first thing that came to their mind was how their body felt stiff and sore. They found it hard to open their right eye at first, they could barely lift their right arm, and it was hard to breathe through the searing pain in their chest.

As they laid there, slowly gaining their bearings, they tried to recall what happened before they passed out last time, but all that came to mind was a bad dream. Looking down, they spotted their lack of clothing, save for their underwear. No stupid apron or locket in sight. There were no wounds to be spotted on their skin, either. All that was left to them was the question of how they would summarize this dream in their journal.  _Sigh._

A door creaked open to their south. Frisk carefully propped themself up on their elbows, perking up to see their guest.

“Nanay?”

While the figure was familiar, it also wasn't who they had expected. Instead came a cat-eared skeleton, strolling in with a milk bottle filled with transparent purple liquid. His glowing pupils locked onto them and his smile grew wide and eager. The human's heart thumped when he placed his phalanges on their calf. This was no illusion, they realized; they were still stuck in this weird world after all.

“Hindi po,” the monster said warmly. “It's only me. You still remember, yes?”

The monster was a welcome sight nonetheless, but... _oh, his name was something else, wasn't it? Not that one, but..._ Their eyes lit up with newfound clarity.

"...Cheshire, right?" the human guessed.

They were rewarded with a sweet giggle. "You've no idea how glad I am to hear you say that," he cooed.

The skeleton sat on the side of their bed, shaking up the bottle he carried and creating fizz within. The sight of the bubbles made them thirsty suddenly. Such a drink looked like it would go well with some fruity snacks. Maybe even a little sponge cake with cheese shreds sprinkled on top. Before they knew it, their stomach growled at the thought of those delicacies.

Cheshire chuckled at their noise, popping the cork off on the mystery bottle. “Hungry already, are we? Worry not, my kitten. Jacque is upstairs making something for you already. But first, you need to take this healing remedy, just for good measure.”

Already enticed by the saccharine smell of the concoction, Frisk gladly took the bottle from his hand and chugged half of its contents. Only after they had already gulped it down did they register exactly how sweet it was. It was almost _too_ sweet, in fact, that they slapped a hand over their mouth and whined at how much it stung the back of their throat.

Cheshire took the bottle from them and set it down on the floor. “Oh, right. Miss Fonteno’s potions have an… acquired taste. But they work wonders for the nerves, I assure you.”

Indeed, not long after drinking that overwhelming flavor, Frisk felt their pains suddenly fade away. No aches, no strains, absolutely nothing. The sensation was just about gone along with their memories.

Almost.

“I never thought there was such thing as too much sugar,” they sighed. “The heck’s even in that thing?”

The skeleton reached for the bottle again, swirling it around before taking a sip of his own. “Mm... I’d definitely say some pineapple’s mixed in there, maybe some hint of oranges and"--he paused for another sip--"apple... pie, I believe. Ah, and that girl threw in some of her succulent serum in here, too. That’s why it’s got some a strong flavor.”

_Sure doesn’t seem strong to him._

“So, this is the Duchess’ place, right?” Frisk asked. They finally looked up at their surroundings, noticing that the room was fashioned like some alchemist's laboratory. Now that they realize it, too, their bed was more fitting for operations, wasn't it?...

He nodded his head, gestured for them to sit upright, and then crawled his way behind them so he could comb through the tangles in their hair with his claws. The human took this moment to try again to think about what had happened earlier… however long ago that was, anyway.

_We were just leaving here because some lady was calling for help… we showed up in this boggy area--looked like Waterfall, but with an actual sky… and we found some people, but…_

“It's a shame you lost that rose,” Cheshire interrupted. “It suits your eyes quite nicely. I'll make sure to pick you another one from the throne room garden, though.”

“Thanks,” Frisk muttered back. “But what about the rest of my clothes?”

He settled his hands on their shoulders and gave them a light squeeze. “Drying off as we speak. They'll need some stitching up after your little accident, too.”

“My ‘accident,’ huh?” they leaned back against him and sighed deeply. “So, I really did die, didn't I?”

The cat fell silent. The human took that as a "yes," and tried to settle themself against his ribcage.

“Well, It doesn’t look like I _reset_ , though, so… what happened?"

“'Resets' do not exist in our world,” Cheshire stated. “When you were put down earlier, your brain simply shut itself off before the impact. Your body then went into a shielded state where no one can do any more damage to it, giving your wounds time to heal themselves before you woke up.”

“So… I'm like a super zombie then?”

“Heh. If it makes you feel cool to think so, then feel free.”

It did sound cool, but it also didn't sound "right." Knowing that this world could carry on without them, even for just a little while, made them feel uneasy. At least with a "reset," they could pretend nothing bad happened and just, well, try again. Now it seems like there is no cheating allowed. People would remember the missteps. Someone has already reminded them of their demise, even. At least this person they could trust not to give them weird looks or use sensitive words. Still...

"Is this a regular thing for my kind down here?" Frisk asked.

Cheshire hummed pensively. “I can't confirm nor deny that thought. No way to do so anymore, either.”

"So, no person named 'Alice' had an accident of their own before I showed up?"

"...Need you think so hard about these things? Just be glad you're here again. I know I am."

"But..." Frisk sat up again and turned to him. "I mean, yeah, of course I'm happy about not dying. It's... I mean, it's just that..."

A voice calling for the cat from upstairs interrupted their thought. Judging by its fortissimo, that must have been that other "Papyrus" they saw before--or "Jacque" as this world referred him as, they suppose. Frisk stood from the bed, only to be yanked back in by their companion. When they turned to scold him for his roughness, the skeleton pressed his teeth gently against their forehead. Their face went warm.

“No more troubling thoughts, my dear,” he whispered. “You won't lose me again. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Jacque’s ears perked up a whole two feet above his skull as his friends emerged from the basement. He was standing by the Duchess’ desk, clearing off the papers and setting down plates of freshly cooked food and an assortment of beverages. He greeted the two loudly and cheerfully. It was about the level of enthusiasm that was expected of his counterpart.

Cheshire had offered the human one of the Duchess’ spare robes, which was an odd combination of short and baggy. It was barely enough to cover down to where their fingertips lay against their thighs. They had to watch their behind carefully as they took a seat at one end of the desk, although the others weren't even paying attention to them.

Placed in front of them were three stacks of pancakes. One was plain while the other two were mixed with bananas and chocolate chips. Jacque excused that it was Cheshire who asked him to make the two special batches, but because they sounded “so unusual” he had to make some extra ones without special additions. Naturally, Frisk piled their plate with the banana and chocolate pancakes, alongside a big slab of ham and hash browns. Jacque gave them a confused look as they drenched all of it in syrup.

As the skeletons sat down to join the human for breakfast, the rabbit perked up and raised his drink to the air. Oddly enough, it was a wine glass filled with milk.

“In place of Madam Gryphon and the Duchess, who both are off on a business trip, I would like to thank the young human for their assistance in yesterday's ambush.” He smiled proudly in Frisk’s way. “I am also glad to see you've made a successful recovery, ah… what's your name again?”

Frisk stifled a giggle, clinking their glass of orange juice against his and Cheshire’s glass. The cat was the only one who actually drank wine from his.

“I'm, uh, Alice,” they said, remembering their fake name from yesterday. “Thank you again for the food, Jacque. It's really good stuff!”

The lanky skeleton aimed his smug grin at the smaller one. The latter simply shook his head and quietly drank his wine.

After all the food had been gobbled up, Frisk helped Jacque clean up the desk and carry the plates upstairs where the kitchen was set. Cheshire announced that he had to go check on the garden in the castle, promising to bring the human one of the roses before disappearing into smoke and seeping under the eastern door.

“He's always obsessing over those flowers for some reason,” Jacque said as he organized the washed plates. “He even has everyone in the cities doing the same thing. If even a single petal is off-kilter, it has to be painted over again. I don't know why he _has_ to, though; I quite like the color white.”

Frisk cocked a brow at the given information. "How long has this been going on for?”

“Ever since they started growing between the cracks of the streets one day,” he explained. “The people have adopted the ritual of painting the roses red again every other day. It seems like such a silly thing, but it keeps them occupied. Some say it even makes them feel hopeful! It's better than worrying about other things, like... well, you know what I mean.”

Frisk thought back to the first time they met Cheshire. They remembered how suddenly calm they felt when he saw them bring color back to the roses’ petals, how seeing them glow in the light reminded them of their strength. Perhaps this is what he and other people saw in the flowers, too. That must be the bigger reasoning.

They looked over the skeleton’s frame next. With the kind of muscle that suit makes him look like he's got, it's a wonder why he didn't fight alongside Gryphon and Cheshire yesterday. He was the only one beside themself who cowered against those ghastly beings. They were sure he'd be adapt if he just got proper training. _Maybe then I wouldn't have to worry about him going headless--_

“Excuse me, but I need to go take a breather outside. I won't take too long.”

“Oh, alrighty then! I'll stay and keep the house tidy.”

Frisk left through the western door, taking their boots out with them. Perhaps they should have waited to get that jumper back before leaving, but something ate at them from the back of their mind. _It would only be for a moment_ , they told themself.

It wasn't long until they found themself wandering back towards the tunnel to Waterfall, or “the Weepmire” as they heard it being called. The heat of the land behind them was cut off by the chilly breeze of the next. They walked past the small glowing mushrooms and the whispering flowers. They couldn't help but slow down when they heard the plants saying something alarming to them.

“It's okay, it's okay. I've got you, I've got you.”

“I don't think that was supposed to happen. When did it learn to do that?”

“I don't know! We had never documented this behavior before."

"What are we supposed to tell her then?"

"I don't know... Hey, what the hell are you on about over there?”

“Please don't leave me again.”

They tried to ignore the flowers.

 

* * *

 

The human returned to the scene where they had their _accident_ , although now it seemed like the area had been cleaned up somewhat. Now it was mere grass and water. They found the driest spot in this clearing and laid themself flat, looking up towards the sky.

They couldn't see it very well, but they knew there was a truly endless sky beyond the small cracks of light poking through above them. They couldn't tell if the huge black blotches above were mushroom heads or tree branches, or perhaps even gargantuan leaves. But they knew they had to be connected to the slim stalks that surrounded them. There were even more levels to this mysterious forest just beyond the branches curling around them, too. But there was no way they were climbing that.

When they sat up again, a yellow flower was waiting at their feet. He looked up at the human thoughtfully, but unsmiling.

“Alone again, Alice?”

Frisk grimaced at the flower and threatened to get up.

“Wait a second! _Wait!_ ” They froze in place, despite clearly not wanting to stay here. But he wasn't going to lose this opportunity. “Sorry. I… I know you're not Alice. Well, not _now._ You might have been earlier, but I couldn't really tell.”

Reluctantly, Frisk settled back down onto the grass and leaned in closer. “What name do you go by?”

The flower tilted his head at them, giving them a strange look.

“The people I've seen so far, they all look like people I know," the human explained, "but they aren't really them. So, it's safe to guess you’re not actually Flowey, right?”

“...Well, normally, no,” he grumbled. “But, as I am right now, I might as well be, huh?”

The human threw their head back and groaned, “Lovely.”

“Hey, be happy! I'm the good 'Flowey.' I don't want to hurt you,” Flowey assured. When they shot back with a suspicious glare, he shook his head and continued. “Look, I remember you from a long time ago, that's why I've been tracking you. You're the one that Alice chose as her medium before things went sour. Lucky for you, no one remembers you or what you did, except obviously for me and that crazy cat you befriended.”

“Slow down,” Frisk piped up suddenly. “Who’s this Alice person you keep talking about?”

Flowey started to say something, then sighed and shook his head. He appeared rather distressed and unsure how to address the situation. Frisk tapped their knee as they connected the dots on their own piecing together what they could based on... well, what they could remember about this character's dynamic.

“Is Alice a bad kid?” Frisk asked carefully.

Flowey eventually answered quietly, “No, she's not. She's just lost and in pain, I think. Just like you are, Frisk.”

He was about to say more until the two heard something rustling in the distance. He gasped loudly before receding into the earth, leaving Frisk by themself. What came out of the bushes nearby, however, was a small duckling that made itself comfortable at the human's side. After a minute of quiet, Flowey reemerged from the soil.

“Oh, thank god, I thought it was that cat,” he sighed in relief.

“Hey, Flowey?”

“What now?”

“I need you to explain everything to me. Who Alice is, what happened when I was here a long time ago, _apparently_ … and where those Nightmares I just saw came from.”

Flowey blinked several times at them, looking like he was about to flee again. Yet he remained still, eyes softening and trying his best to tolerate the duckling’s chirping.

“I'll try my best," he affirmed quietly. "But you can't tell your little boy toy know I'm the one telling you all of this. Trust me."


	8. The Flower Tells His Story

In the few minutes they had alone together, a cautious but hopeful Flowey recounted the story of Wonderland to a lost Frisk.

 

* * *

 

_Flowey shared how he was the young prince of the former royal family. He was hailed as the Prince of Hearts in this world, and was well on his way to inheriting the throne later in his life. He also had a younger sister named Alice, who looked nothing like him or his parents, but was around for as long as he could remember. The two were quite close, though sometimes he felt more like the younger sibling of the two._

_One day, the two spotted some weird black slugs crawling around in the corners of the throne room. They didn't look organic, however. They seemed more like living waste. Daring little Alice tried to scoop them off into a bucket, but quickly fell into tears for seemingly no reason. The Prince then tried to dispose of them with a nice and hefty stomp, but the moment his bare foot squished them, he fell back in a sudden anxious fit. The goop would only reform shortly after, anyways. They decided that perhaps they should steer clear of these things when they could._

_When they found more of them outside of the castle, they knew they had to exterminate them somehow. The two spent a week stomping them out with the biggest boots they could find, but they always seemed to come back the next day, making unsettling noises and being overall disgusting. Even when they called upon their friends or family to help, they never stayed down for long. And as time went on, the slugs grew and grew until they stood up to their own height._

_The children were restless, paranoid, and overall terrified. Seeking shelter in one another before their premature demise, they clung onto each other to keep the other from falling apart._

_That's when they suddenly felt themselves growing together. Two hands folded into one, with his will being funneled into hers. Though this new body was a foreign experience for them, it had enough strength to stand and strike one of these shadowy figures down. The creature collapsed in one fell swoop, and the rest desperately squirmed away from this new lifeform. When the children split apart, they were inspired by this weird discovery. So, they continued to hack and slash any foe they came across._

_As time went on and more of that black matter kept appearing, they came to realize their powers combined weren't enough. The Prince was pure, but his magic wasn't honed as well as his sister's. They needed someone else, just like her._

_One night, the hopeful Prince began to pray for help from an angel from "the outside." Their father often made references to such a world, however he recounted this world as being "a distant but curious dream."  And although his sister had many vivid dreams of such a world, she worried for her brother's health and asked him many nights to step away from his bedside already. Yet, after a week of wishful nights, it seems like his efforts had paid off._

_Word spread around the kingdom that a stranger had arrived, and had quickly befriended a good majority of the population. This stranger was quite alike to the princess, many citizens said. The children were quick to investigate this, and were pleased to find that it was no empty remark; Alice's eyes lit up at the sight of the second human to reside in Wonderland, and immediately cried out to her brother, "I've seen that one! In my dreams, I've seen this person! Father's tales really were true, weren't they?"_

_This human, of course, was Frisk._

_The children quickly enlisted the human to their team, who agreed just as eagerly. It seemed as well that the soul bond between them and Alice was not only stronger, but more natural as well, for the resulting shape was far less disjointed than that of a cross-species fusion. The Prince could not even say who the dominate force was between his sister or the new ally. Either way, he finally found his hope again, and he followed the duo as they slashed up the darkness with ease. He was certain that this would finally be the end of the terror._

_However, the more that this new body was exposed to the darkness, the more wounded and disturbed their minds became. There were times were they would cry for seemingly no reason, talking of horrible visions that would appear anytime the creatures came close. Sometimes, they made claims that the air was full of dust, and would either choke on their own breath or inhale the illusion deeper. There were even moments that they would refer to him or their friends by completely different names, or even just stare at them weirdly. And as much as the Prince was alarmed by the fusion's odd behavior, he was much more worried about the creatures still running amok, he urged them to keep going._

_At some point, the fusion stopped hunting after the black globs, and instead turned their weapon at the very denizens they were trying to protect. Whether out of irritation for a perceived ungratefulness, or perhaps the last thread of sanity snapping in their body, they cut them up into bits, then stitch them back together, only to cut them down again and again. Big or small, fleshy or all bones, it didn’t matter to them. They wanted so desperately to lash out at their friends, but they hadn't the mercy to let them stay down forever._

_The Prince had not forseen this turn of events, yet he didn’t have the courage to do anything about it._ _He hoped that, maybe, his father could put an end to this madness. The King was more familiar with the terrors of the heart than anyone else--surely, he could extinguish the deadly flames in theirs?_

_But he, too, was cut down like nothing in the end._

_The darkness grew into such a frightening proportion; the only bodies that stood outside were either the "infected," or the forgotten, as everyone else had to lock themselves up for their own good. The Prince couldn’t stand any more of this misery. He couldn't bear the weight of his guilt. He knew, however, that there was only one way to reverse this course._

_With trembling hands, he took his dead father’s trident and caught up to the fusion. As they were in the midst of striking down another victim, he brought the weapon down upon them from behind. However, his aim was clumsy and the weapon was quite massive; he only scratched their arm, and in return they tore through his chest. "At least I bought that person some time to flee," he thought upon falling. He already braced for his own end once he hit the ground. Then, his eyes met those of that "angel." He saw Alice's face staring down at him in horror from within the darkness._

_“This isn't fun anymore,” were her last words._

_The Prince tried to stop her once she turned the dagger upon herself, but he, too, was consumed by the shadows. His memories past then were faded, with only the feeling of his sister dying in his arms being the clearest sensation. It was only when he was stripped of his former body that his mind became clear again, and at the same time overly muddled. But he had no hands to support his headache. He had no legs to elevate him from the dry soil. He had no lungs, no proper esophagus, but yet he could still scream._

_His first thought then was, "This must be what that 'other me' she dreamt about felt like."_

 

* * *

 

"...That’s all I can tell you about our past," Flowey concluded solemnly. "Everything else is hazy, except that dad never came back and no one could find our mom. Those ladies had to take control instead, and it looks they've done a really good job so far. Except… well, the folks around here are becoming restless lately. You can probably see why."

“I'm surprised they haven't freaked out at the sight of you, though," Flowey noted. "After all that we went through, seeing another human come through the area would be a red flag for sure. But, I guess you're just that lucky. Or, they're just that forgetful."

Frisk tapped the ground while they tried to process the information. It was all fine and good initially, but...

“How come I came back, though? And why isn't that other kid here either?”

Unfortunately, Flowey had no answer for that. Instead, he paused to scan their surroundings for eavesdroppers. Frisk felt their stress boiling from within their chest, for as much as they wracked their brain for anything that might had added up to his words, they came up with... nothing. Not even anything to reflect against their experiences with the world they were more familiar with. After all, there were no other humans in the Underground, nor were there any potential threats to monsterkind except themself.

Then, they had a thought: how much merit did this thing’s word have, anyway?  _This can't possibly be real. I would know this if it were._

“Look, you obviously had bad experience with the other me,” he added so matter-of-factly, perking up a bit. “But I’m not soulless like that other Flowey is. I want to help you, Frisk, but I also want to help everyone else. We need each other if we want to fix our mistakes.”

The human suddenly stood up and began to walk away. Flowey pleaded for them to come back, but they refused. And so he sank into the ground and popped back up in their path, looking quite discouraged.

“Come on! I know this all a lot to take in, but you have to trust me!” he urged. “Don’t you care about these people?”

Frisk squatted down, shooting daggers straight into the little creature’s eyes.

“If you’re really my friend, why would you wear _that_ face? Where's your real one, hm?”

“This... face?” The flower lurched back.

“For all I know, you could be tricking me into actually killing them myself, like some stupid self-fulfilled prophecy.” They stood again, continuing down their path towards the tunnel back to the Ostewary. “Well, I’m not going to play into your trap, you freak. I've already got my game plan, and all the allies I could ask for.”

“Oh? _Oh?_ ” The flower kept popping up beside their feet every few steps, looking more furious by the second. “And what do you suppose you _are_ going to do about this, huh?”

“I’m going back to Cheshire. At least his counterpart isn't a maniacal jerk. He's quite reliable, in fact.”

He suddenly stopped, they assumed from shock. The human kept going ahead of him. Still desperate to get their attention, he screamed at them, “Don't be an idiot! He can't help you; he's just some vicious, wild animal who likes to stalk people. What use are you going to get out of that?”

“Was that shade really necessary?” the cat hissed behind him.

Flowey shrieked, reemerging several feet away from his hungry smile. “W-when did you get here?!”

Frisk turned on their heels and flinched when they saw Cheshire creeping on all fours towards the flower. His eyes flared madly, like there were firecrackers lit up in his skull. Magic began to collect on his arms, creating the faint image of beastly flesh and claws.

“I just came back from the castle when my good friend told me the human had run off somewhere,” he answered with eerie calmness. “So I tracked their scent back here, and saw they were being bullied by a little weed.”

The flower was already trembling, though his face crinkled in offense by the accusation. “B-bullied? No, that's wrong. I'm only trying to help your friend. Right, Frisk?”

Frisk refused to meet his pleading eyes.

“Oh, please. Quit making trouble for me, mister flower,” the cat scolded darkly. “Did I not make myself clear earlier about what would happen if I saw you again? Or do you just despise me that badly…?”

“Nonononooo, no trouble here, sir!” Flowey insisted, leaning away from the predator. He quickly looked back to Frisk again for help, but this only prompted Cheshire snap his fangs near his face. The poor flower let out another childish squeal.

The human wanted to go and stop him, but… no, they didn't really want to. There was no point being nice right now. Somehow, they felt nothing for that plant.

“You're such a pathetic creature,” Cheshire snapped. “Leeching off my human because you're too weak to do your own dirty deeds. How dare you call yourself our prince? Should I have uprooted you a long time ago?”

“Please… please stop it. I don't want to die…”

“Have you forgotten your own philosophy, _Flowey?_ How does it go again? Let's see, ' _In this world…_ '”

The threats, the sobbing, the exhilaration of it all--before they could reach out to do something, anything, their vision faded. They hadn't even blinked. They could definitely feel that their eyelids were wide open still, but there was only blackness in their view. They tried to reach past it, but their arms were stiff at their sides.

 _Last time this happened, my body acted on its own_ , Frisk thought as they tried to control their breathing. _But, God, it feels like there's needles in my skin. I can't even close my pinky..._ _what's going to happen now?_

As they waited for their senses to return to them, their feet suddenly became cold as time passed. The feeling crept up their legs, and once it reached up to their thighs, their fingers began to feel the chill as well. The combination of cold and prickly numbness was intolerable, only made worse by the sudden wave of vertigo. In that instant, the cold enveloped their entire body and seeped into their throat and lungs. And still there was no sound, no smell, no imagery. Just the biting frost consuming them inside-out.

...No, it wasn't just the temperature they felt. It was _sloshing_. They were  _drowning._ They couldn't breathe. And yet, in this state of panic, something had the audacity to tell them to " **hold on.** " They recognized this something all too clearly, and the realization of it almost cut their breathing altogether.

_Alice?_

Something took hold of their wrists and pulled them up from water. Whatever light was available in the area flashed in their eyes once more, though only briefly as the human collapsed on the soil away from the river they escaped from. They coughed and gasped, finding their tears mixing in with the droplets on their face. They spent a good minute trying to force the water out of their body, all the while their savior was hugging them tightly. His panicked words and apologies didn't even register to them at first.

When all had become silent and Frisk finally snapped from their stupor, they tried their best to directly face Cheshire, who had wrapped his arms, legs, and tail around their body, and his face buried into their shoulder. He hid his anguish well. They hated that.

“Are you okay?” they asked in a hushed voice.

The cat tightened his grip, accidentally digging his claws into their skin. After just getting over the prickly numbness from before, they had to bite back a cry.

“I let you get hurt again, after I just said I wouldn't. So, no, I can't say I'm alright after that.”

Frisk tried to pull him away from their body so they could clearly see his face again. He was a stubborn creature, though, clinging on for dear life. He was lucky they were already tired from another near-death, They leaned against him, lazily raising a hand to pat the back of his skull.

"It's okay now. I'm still here."

After a bit of coaxing, Cheshire finally raised his head and met with the human eye-to-eye. He put on a weak smile for them, though it quickly found strength as soon as Frisk returned the gesture.

"I should have told you about that flower earlier,” he murmured. “Just like in your world, he's nothing more than a terrible nuisance. You should never pay him any mind. I'm so, so terribly sorry for forgetting this, my dear.”

Before he could dip back into a depressive state, Frisk interrupted, “Hey, Cheshire, did you remember your other promise at least?”

The cat perked up, nodding eagerly. He moved away enough to be able to “dip” his hand into his rib cage, though really it just dissolved into smoke. Somehow, though, he was able to reform his hand holding a rose with the same beautiful red hue painted on from yesterday. Without even needing to be asked, he slipped the flower behind their ear.

“The paint hasn't worn off yet,” he noted. “Curious, but good. You only deserve the finest quality.”

The rose glowed in such a way that made Frisk feel revitalized. They sighed contentedly, thanking Cheshire for his dedication. And yet, they themself weren't yet at ease with today's events just yet. There were always more questions somewhere in their head.

But they chose not to ask any of the important ones. Instead, they asked him for a favor.

“Can we go back to the Duchess’ place now?”

The human stood first, then pulled the skeleton up to his feet as well. He kept a vice grip on their hand, which they simply accepted at that point, and the two stepped away from the river on their way out through the tunnel between here and the next area.


	9. Visiting the Gardener's Parlor

Frisk spent the rest of their day under Cheshire’s care, hidden away in the Duchess’ basement as the two had long conversations with each other about any topic that came to their heads. The world, its nature, its politics, “I heard she said so-and-so,” and so on. It was a pleasant break from the chaos that has been going on in the day and a half they were here.

Something about laying with Cheshire in bed reminded them of a sensation they missed from a long time ago. A warm sensation, with hot cocoa and laughter, and the sight of a toothy grin just like his.

For now, they let themself indulge in the safety of his arms.

Jacque remained upstairs, keeping the house tidy as he said he would. Sometimes he would come down to ask the other two about meals or somehow cram his way into their conversation, but he never lingered for too long. He always seemed to leave with a nervous look in his eye, but Frisk didn't pay too much mind. It was only when he came rushing down late in the evening that the two were forced to give him more than a few minutes.

“The queens have just called back,” he announced. “They've requested a special meeting with Alice tomorrow in Yuleside. Something about addressing classified information… I'm afraid they can't tell me why.”

“Yuleside, huh?” Cheshire sighed, looking off to the side. He had that kind of vulnerable look in his eyes again. Frisk was already worried.

“They also mentioned that, because of the importance of this meeting, they should consider, ah… sprucing themself up. J-just a tad,” the rabbit added, looking down at his own feet.

The human sat upright, cocking a brow. “What’s wrong with the way I look now?”

“Well, I, ah--”

Jacque suddenly jumped back--like, _way_ back, enough that he hit the door behind him. The cat’s eyes widened and glowed, but it was in such a way that Frisk couldn’t look directly at him without straining their own eyes. It was different than this morning. They just couldn’t find the right word to describe the discomfort.

They then clapped their hands together to get the skeletons’ attention. “If that’s what the ladies ask for, then I’ll do it. So, where can I find new clothes?”

Jacque beamed with relief, though he still refused to look up at the duo. “Well, alongside looking after our flora and supplying our remedies, our Miss Fonteno is quite the skilled tailor! Even my own suit here is made from her silk. You can find her north east from here, next door to that weird resort that The Hosts own. Trust me, she does _wonders_ with your style.”

After bidding him a thank you for his advice, the human and the cat were finally alone again. The latter seemed especially relieved, although the former was suddenly wondering about what would happen if they didn’t follow the orders. Or, worse yet, if they messed up the orders. Would Madam Gryphon really tear their head off? Would they come back alive and _see_ their head _still there, sitting on a mount?_

“That look on your face… you’re thinking about unnecessary things again, dear.”

“Oh… sorry.”

They shooed the paranoid thoughts away and settled in with their companion for the night.

The next morning, after they retrieved their repaired jumper again, they were already out of the door. The cat was hesitant on letting them outside alone, asking many times to verify if they were sure about their choice. They said yes every time, telling him not to worry and that they were “a big kid now,” and threatening to yank on his tail after the sixth time. He finally backed off at that last part, but he still imparted a warning to them.

“Though this only refers to the deep end in particular, our people call this area _the Ostewary_ ,” he explained.

“Because… it always smells like soup whenever I step outside?” Frisk guessed half-jokingly.

Cheshire gently shook his head. "We keep those who are _in a stew_ \--that’s to say, those who have lost their minds--locked away in that resort that Jacque mentioned before. Some are victims of the Nightmare's influence, while others... just chose to do away with their frontal lobes, both figuratively and literally. It's not Edith's most proud accomplishment, but there's not much we can do about it anymore. It would be wise not to linger there for too long.”

 _Yeah, I sure got that memo before,_ they thought, suddenly feeling stiff and reluctant.

As it was their third time braving the heat, it wasn’t as overwhelming to them anymore. It left a rather nice tingle on their skin, in fact, especially when mixed in with the breeze that shot out through the vents as they made their way over the different platforms. Just being alone in general made a surprising improvement on their thought process. Of course, some of what that flower said yesterday still left them worried.

 _He doesn’t seem like a liar_ , they pondered quietly. _I think he… he really was crying yesterday, wasn’t he? He was actually, truly scared. And yet I did nothing._

_Why didn’t I do anything?_

While blanking out as they did, they didn’t see the man standing in their path. They crashed into him at full force, knocking them both down on the ground. Frisk gasped sharply while the other person let out a full cry of shock. Before they could even get up on their knees, the man was already standing and yanked them up by the collar.

“Watch where the fuck yer goin’, dickhead!” he yelled right in their ear. “Lost my goddamn cig in the lava ‘cause of you!”

“Jeez, okay, I’m sorry!” Frisk winced. “Just put me down, I didn’t mean to… wait. Patrick?”

“Frisk?” The cat monster dropped the human back on the ground, letting them land on their behind. “O-ohh, _shit_ , I’m sorry dude! I thought you were one of the loonies. Y’alright?”

He helped them back onto their feet, dusting off their outfit for them. He wore the most innocent looking smile he could, although it just made him look like a child who pissed their pants during a Christmas photo. Frisk avoided eye contact as much as possible.

“I’m okay. Sorry again for the crash,” they answered.

Finally, Patrick dropped his messed up smile, to their delight. “So, since you’re back in one piece, I’m guessing that talk with the Duchess went smoothly?”

The human shrugged. “Yeah, you could say that. But, uh, listen, I’ve got to get somewhere to find new clothes. She wants me over for a meeting, so I have to go to, uh, Miss Fonteno’s place.”

Patrick’s eyes bulged out upon hearing that name. He grabbed the human’s shoulder before they could take off, already breaking out into more of a sweat than they were. “You, uh, should have someone to guide ya around if yer goin’ somewhere like that.” He pointed his thumb at himself. “Take me, kiddo. I know the ins and outs of this entire area. I’ll keep you outta trouble. Deal?”

Frisk shook him off, their brows crinkling in annoyance. They already had to get one cat to leave them alone, and they didn’t feel like dealing with another one.

But this cat was far more stubborn, and far more… _fleshy_. He flashed right in front of their face, putting on his innocent smile again. This time, he just looked like a complete psychopath melting in the heat. He kept pleading with the human, saying “please” so fast and so frequently that it sounded like foreign speech to them after only seven seconds.

“Okay, fine, you can come along!” the human snapped.

Finally, Patrick shut up. He followed behind them quietly, looking oddly content with himself. _So much for a quiet trip._

 

* * *

 

Up ahead in the distance, the duo spotted a large glass dome. It was like one large rounded mirror, reflecting both the lava below and the cloudy sky above. The only non-shiny surface on it was the double doors, black like obsidian and looking almost like a dark hole from where the two stood.

When Patrick affirmed that this is where Miss Fonteno lived, Frisk continued down the path. It was much larger than the Duchess’ place, but who knows what awaited them inside? It would just as likely be yet another new world beyond those doors, with new faces and new dangers.

Finally, they reached the doors, with some dull specks stuck along the top of them. A silver knocker was plastered on the surface, shaped to look like a woman’s face with what seemed to be a pearl necklace hanging off her to represent the handle. They reached out carefully…

**[ * You feel several eyes looking down on you. You stay determined despite the pressure. ]**

...And knocked the necklace against the door a few times.

…

… …

“Um.” Patrick peeked over the human’s shoulder. “Maybe you should look for a doorbell or some--”

“Who are you?” called out several, tiny voices.

The two jumped in surprise, looking up at the specks on the door. They turned out to be small spiders staring down at them with beady eyes. “We said, _who_ are _you?_ ” they repeated in unison. “We only let in clients and close friends of Glendora. You look like neither.”

Frisk’s friend stepped in front of them, hands folded together and his face scrunching up into what he thought to be a pleasant face as he looked up at the spiders. “Patrick, at yer service. My little buddy here was told to come here by the Duchess. Y’know, our humble  _White Queen_?”

“Yes, we’re well aware,” one of the spiders responded monotonously.

“And what is _your_ name, dear client?” another spider asked with a little more enthusiasm.

Patrick was about to answer for them, but immediately after his first syllable, the human stomped on his toes. While he collapsed in pain, Frisk answered calmly, “My name is _Alice_. Pleasure to meet you all.”

The spiders all gave each other curious looks. They whispered to each other for a bit, then collectively shook their heads. Without wasting any more time, they instructed the two to wait outside before disappearing through the cracks of the doors. This gave Patrick a chance to crawl his way up to Frisk’s face and show them his annoyance.

“The hell was that about?!” he barked. “You can’t just say ‘excuse me’ or, you know, do anything _besides_ hurt my foot?”

Frisk twisted their apron.

“Sorry, Patrick. I, uh… panicked.”

“And what’s with the new name? Like… wait… is this like a closeted thing or somethin’?” he questioned further.

“No, I’m not closeted,” they groaned. “I just feel more comfortable using a different name for now, okay? Privacy reasons or whatever.”

The doors opened up, releasing a strong but cool breeze. A somewhat larger spider approached the two, urging them to hurry inside. The doors closed right behind them, sealing in the cool air. Right ahead if them was something beyond Frisk's imagination.

A large, white mansion sat in the middle of a jungle of flowers, all illuminated by one large light that simulated the feeling of the morning sun. There were many types of flowers to count: Chrysanthemums, carnations, hydrangeas, birds of paradise, amarilys… but of course, parallel to the marble path they walked, were two columns of roses, much like the one they felt in their hair, except these ones bore a darker shade of red and had an exceptionally fragrant sweetness to them.

They followed the lone spider down the path and to the front of the mansion. Smaller spiders scattered around with appropriately sized watering cans and pouches of fertilizer. Frisk carefully watched their feet so as not to knock into one of the little workers. Very few paid attention to them, but those who did waved at them with a free arm before resuming their work. They thought the whole process to be very endearing.

The spider guide came to a halt and pointed out a figure the human's size underneath one of the trees. She stood by a patch of peculiar flowers with thin segments that branched out all around itself. Four of her hands carried gardening tools of some kind while the other two reached behind to fix her twin tails. Frisk looked towards their friend, who stood there speechless and burning crimson all over his face. They sighed and shook their head before calling the girl's attention.

“Miss Fonteno? My name is--”

“You’re Alice, yes?” she interjected with a soft, breathy voice. “The child who came upon recommendation. Mm, of course. Just a moment, dearie! I've just about finished giving my children something to drink…”

Normally, a girl with five eyes and fangs poking out from her lips would be an alarming sight. In Frisk's opinion, however, this girl looked rather adorable, albeit with the faintest feeling of familiarity. Judging by the size of her home, she must be as respectable of a person as she is respectful. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

She smiled sweetly at her guests, handing off her equipment to her spider servants before curtsying at them. “It's sort of a funny thing, you know. I had to double check with my employees to make sure they got your name right. I knew someone just like you a long time ago... just hearing about her makes my children nervous."

Her honeyed words were an extreme contrast from her dark, piercing eyes. It quickly changed the human's mind about this being a "smooth meeting". Feigning ignorance, the human sputtered back, "Why weren't you bothered by it?"

She giggled daintily.

"Because, dummy, Alice is a common name. What are the odds the same one would show up here several years later?"

"Oh, but where are my manners? I am Glendora Fonteno, the owner of this lovely estate." She clasped two of her hands together, and folded the other four behind her back. "It is a pleasure to have you here. Please, let us continue our conversation inside over a cup of tea.”

Adjusting his bowtie, Patrick sped along quickly behind Glendora, muttering something about a "jackpot", and leaving Frisk behind and admittedly quite worried. They stayed for a few moments longer to observe the spindly flowers, which they realized were some type of lilies. Upon even closer inspection, they found some spiders, possibly babies, crawling around the stems and petals. They looked like they were trying to hide. Not wanting to disturb them, they finally retreated into the mansion.

**[ * Your arms feel uncomfortably itchy. ]**


	10. You Wish Modelling Was This Thrilling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for more mutilation, and then some temp character death. 'cause we all love those scenes in this series!  
> right? no? well, too bad. on with the program.

An hour and a half had passed since Frisk arrived at Glendora’s mansion, and at this point they were beginning to wonder again why they still played along with this world’s game.

They had been taken up to her room shortly after being offered some tea and a vast selection of desserts involving chocolate, dulce de leche, or both. Their companion Patrick helped himself to quite a bit of the wares, though Frisk was wise to stay light so that their following dress-up session would be less painful. Once they’ve come to realize that the spider girl’s outfits were woven with a soft, stretchy material, however, they regretted missing out on the grub.

They tried outfit,

after outfit,

after outfit,

and each time, Glendora had something to both compliment yet criticize. She definitely knew what she was doing, but Frisk couldn’t help but zone out a lot of the time. It was a lot like clothes shopping on the surface (or whatever constitutes as this world’s opposite), though admittedly their fashion was a lot crappier than the designs they’ve seen down here. Of course, not many humans nowadays go around wearing bodices and fancy suits.

They really missed their old sweater.

“Don’t look so blue, dear,” Glendora chimed suddenly. “Here, I think purple suits you quite nicely.”

Frisk let out a deep sigh, shaking off their tawny leather jacket onto her ottoman. That was a part of the sixth outfit they modeled already. They wanted to feel embarrassed over having rejected each one, but more than that they were just tired of modeling. They stood awkwardly in only their underwear while Glendora went back to her closet to fetch one more outfit.

“Can I get an honest opinion out of you, ma'am?” they called out to her.

“Honesty is a spider's best quality,” she professed back.

 _Old human folklore tends to differ,_ they wanted to point out. Especially when this spider was this small and cute. Still, they closely watched the girl through the tall mirror while she shuffled between the many fabrics hung up in her closet.

“Well, this is assuming you already know what I am." Glendora came right out with a rich violet garment right as the human fancied the thought of sitting down on her bedside. They sighed, "How do you feel about humans, though?”

(Somehow) unsurprisingly, she appeared unperturbed by the question. She first held the cloth up against their body, which was an old-fashioned tunic layered over a white undershirt--surprisingly modest and plain compared to her previous selections. Then, she pushed the clothes into their arms and blinked her wide buggy eyes at them expectantly. Either she was waiting to see how they looked before she could answer, or she just didn't hear them at all. Either way, they gave in to her wished and redressed themself for the seventh time.

The human then twirled around in front of the mirror with their new clothes on. It was rather loose-fitting, with the hem of the tunic floating well past their knees, and their sleeves covering all but their fingers. They snatched a gold belt from one of the discarded outfits to hold it together, prompting Glendora to give them an approving nod. Finally, they were convinced on an outfit. Better yet, she finally decided to grace them with an answer. 

"I haven't had the honor of dressing someone of such high stature for so long," she said while ushering them towards her vanity mirror. "Both of our queens are so drab, you see; The Duchess buries herself in many layers of the same old, musty veils, and I don't fancy myself an armorer on the side, so her wife is out of the question."

“Oh, they're actually married?” Frisk interjected with pleasant surprise. Then they furrowed their brows. "Wait, what's this have to do with my question?"

Glendora merely giggled at them. "Hardly much at all, just needed a moment to vent. Which is why I suggest you put it out of your head. Oh, and do keep your chin up please."

Once they were sat down on her velvet stool, Frisk's bangs were clipped out of the way of their face and the back of their hair tied up with a scrunchy. The girl then pulled out an assortment of cosmetics from the drawers. Despite their protests, she insisted they stay still as she approached them with a brush and some skin-toned powder.

"So, where are your noble customers at?" they asked, closing their eyes and surrendering their face to her whims.

Glendora answered curtly, "Gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone. As in no longer coming back, no matter how much anyone prays. Please, relax your face."

"Right. Sorry."

Their face glowed quite pleasantly in the mirror after she applied the appropriate foundation and highlights. They turned their head many angles, watching how their cheeks reflect the light. Their smile quickly disappeared when the girl brought out some eyeliner.

“May you open your eyes wider for me?” she requested.

Frisk leaned far back from her, scowling. “I am _not_ messing with that,” they hissed.

She giggled at them. “Come on now, Alice. I promise I’ll be careful. Just let me see.”

When the human still wouldn't budge, all of Glendora's six arms fell flat against her sides. She pursed her lip in deep thought for a moment, then flashed a sly, sharp-toothed grin at them. "If you let me put on the finishing touches, I'll tell you my truth. But, it will be a strict truth--that means I won't spare you from the nasty bits, either. Are you okay with that?"

...They leaned back in, even straightened their back for her. Giddy, the girl raised her appliances of beauty right to their eyes. Their lids trembled and they felt the mighty desire to squirm away again, but they held fast and breathed slow.

"Simply put, I both loved and hated the news of your arrival," she finally answered with unnerving casualty. "Loved, because that meant I could show off my wares with a model of high importance, and perhaps even stir the hearts of the royals once more. Hated, because it was your kind that nearly killed my business to begin with, along with several more of my customers. I never even got to dress my ultimate end-goal model."

Her hand fell away from Frisk's face in that last sentence, even though her voice kept considerable composure.

"And who was that?"

"The other Alice, the fallen princess."

Frisk's breathing began to tremble.

"...Ah, but in the end, I can only write it off as a shame. At least my family remained, so I should consider myself 'lucky.' And you're close enough to my end-goal, so it's a good enough apology for me."

All that was left to add was a little bit of blush and some lip balm. They knew she was finally done when she let down their hair, though she suggested they keep their bangs held back with a white headband she slid over their head. Frisk promptly picked up their rose accessory from the desk and slipped it back under the wrap, finally completing their image. Then they went back to the tall mirror and took another gander at their get-up. Glendora stood by them, smirking to herself at another job well done. They really couldn't find the words to describe her handiwork.

Perhaps because there was an awful lump burning at the back of their throat.

The girl yanked them away from their reflection before a frown could make its way on there. She led them downstairs, going on about how pleased the queens will be and how they looked fit for a banquet with someone named Marchie. Frisk hummed along with her words, but their mind had already ran off elsewhere. It came back only briefly when they found Patrick idling in the parlor with some other spider employees. Once he saw the duo come through the archway, he straightened up with his hands in his lap.

“Oh, h-hey there, miss!” His eyes flickered over from Glendora to Frisk, and he stifled a laugh. “And hello to you too, little adventurer. From which ruins have you procured such a mighty boon?”

His words tugged the corners of their mouth downward. They protectively held their arms over their waist, hiding it from his mocking stare.

“Oh, quiet you! I think they look rather charming,” Glendora chided. “I've always wanted to put this style into good use.”

“Uh.” The furry monster nodded quickly, pretending to agree with her. “Yeeeaah. Such a _vintage_ look. The queens will be all over it.”

The girl sighed dreamily. “It almost reminds me of the old queen. What a charming woman she was, hm? I wonder if they'll notice the likeness, too.”

_..."Old queen?"_

_Ah, so, this nostalgic feeling..._

 

**[ * Feels bitter. ]**

 

"Please, excuse me," Frisk blurted right before turning on their heels.

A simulated breeze hit their face and legs on their way out through the front door. The light of the dome was now beginning to drop towards the west, signifying the time to be somewhere around the late afternoon. Spiders all across the garden appeared to be finishing off their rounds, moving in neat lines along the edges of the pavement. Frisk took care to stay on the center of the path while they strolled down to one of the flower patches they saw Glendora tending to earlier.

_Pathetic, is it not?_

They mouthed the words under willing possession, fumbling with their sleeves and flapping them against the wind. Then they held their arms close against them once again, only now out of comfort. In a ways, the oversized fabric felt like one big hug. Just the right thing to guard against the nasty things.

_My loneliness… my fear…_

Alas, this wasn't a real hug, as much as they would have liked to believe it. But that was a real man standing at the end of the path, staring at them.

The human jumped when they finally noticed him lurking there.  _How long has he been there?_  they wondered, still mouthing silently.  _None of the spiders are even reacting to this. Oh, right, they let him in here themselves, haven't they?_

“Hello, sir? Are you looking for Glendora?” they called out to him.

The man didn't say a word, but he did raise his head when they addressed him. The human couldn't make out a face from under his hood, but that really doesn't say much when the entire body is drowned in shadow. And yet, under the shroud, they could feel his burning glare shot their way. They had to wonder why the spiders would let in someone so dirty looking here; something dripped from his beard and his roughly docked horns. Something that looked a lot like oil.

Their blood suddenly went cold.

“She... she's right inside here.” They slowly backed away towards the mansion door. “I… I'll go tell her you're waiting. J-just…”

Before the man could make his move, Frisk rushed back into the mansion and slammed the door behind them. The door slammed back against them. Three scarlet spikes broke through the frame just as they fell to their knees. Glendora and Patrick rushed to the entrance upon hearing the loud crack of the wood.

“What the hell is that?” the cat monster blurted.

Frisk cried back, “No time for questions. Get upstairs, now!”

The spikes pierced through the door again and broke off more wood, allowing a familiar oily substance to seep out. Patrick retreated upstairs as instructed, but Glendora ran off to another room. Frisk followed her out right as the door broke down and the dark figure started chasing after them. His big frame caused him to knock over a bunch of furniture along the way, but at least each broken glass and chair delayed their untimely demise by a second.

The girl and the human made their way out to the other side of the mansion, out by her shed and a patio. Glendora, having her head start, already made her way into the shed by the time Frisk stepped outside. Roaming spider employees fled the scene in a panic, a few of them crying “Look out!” Frisk heeded their warning too late, moving in just the right way for their upper arm to be caught in the middle spike of the monster's large trident. The weapon took them down to the pavement, where it stuck through the stone.

The man approached them with a quake in each step he took, and he loomed over them while they struggled to pull the heavy weapon out. They froze when they felt something slimy fall upon their face. It came from that man, now staring down at them with unblinking, vengeful eyes.

**At last, your time comes, child…**

He ripped the trident out of their arm with ease. They howled, clutching onto their wound, unable to hold back the vicious flood of tears. The pain seared all throughout their body. Or was it his voice echoing in their head that was scorching?

**And now, it is time we make up for our mistakes from long ago.**

He raised the trident over his head. The moment they locked eyes with him again, he also cringed before he could commit to the final strike. They were reminded of something horrible from long ago.

**Goodbye.**

But his weapon came to a halt. A string of webbing clung to his hands like handcuffs. He calmly lowered his hands and looked in the direction of fire, spotting Glendora charging at him with a pair of hedge clippers, her eyes now full of more menace than his bloodied pair.

She sprang up and sank the blades into his shoulder, taking advantage of his idle curiosity. He did not cry, but he did stumble back, giving Frisk a chance to scramble away. However, the man was able to pull apart the cuff-like webs effortlessly, and he quickly took hold of her waist before she could reach out for the clippers again. The same dark slime from earlier crept around his hand and started spreading onto her. The girl tried desperately to reach for her weapon. Within seconds of being in the darkness's hold, she resorted to flailing her arms aimlessly. Soon enough, her claws were aimed at her own skin.

The whole time, Frisk laid frozen at the door back into the mansion. They watched as the shadowed creature laid Glendora down on the floor to writhe and scratch at the growing muck. "Ugly! So ugly," she wept aloud. The sharp tone of her voice deeply disturbed the human, and unfortunately it seems that the large monster took notice of this. And so, he knelt down to the poor, paranoid girl, turning aside his trident to the ground.

 **Little one** , the man whispered,  **I know of your pain. There is much ugliness around us, as well as within. But, this sight is certainly worst of all, don't you think?** ****

He then took hold of her aching head, forcing open two of her now clouded eyes and pointing her vision at the human. **Go on then,** he continued.  **You know who your accusations truly lie with. Let then bear your weight.**

The monster gave the clippers in his shoulder a good jiggle before it popped out, then he handed it back to Glendora's trembling hands. She then had to be pulled up back to her feet, which had almost given way under her just as soon as they met the ground. At least she kept her eyes glued to the human, who finally found some strength to inch away from the pair. Her eyes finally cleared, revealing her pitch black intentions.

"Say, dearie--"

Frisk blinked at her several times. The man had now averted his gaze from the scene, while his newly recruited victim quickly picked up his pursuit for him. The human just barely caught their bearings then.

"--you already know how we handle nasty little weeds here, right?"

She lunged too quickly. Her clippers caught Frisk's robes and tore off a good chunk of fabric as they ran away from her. They scrambled for the kitchen, leaping past the overturned chairs, scattered glass shards, and puddles of oily residue. The girl behind them screamed for them to come back, peppering her demands with some many detailed threats about how she could "recycle their remains." No way in hell they would listen.

They skidded to a halt at the counters, pulling themself up towards the knife block specifically. They tore through each different size and shape, tossing them recklessly behind them before settling on of hefty yet hackable size. Just in time for Glendora to find them and back them up into the dining hall. From there they tightened their grip on the knife, forcing themself to point it in her direction.

"We don't have to do it like this," Frisk pleaded.

"So tasteless," she hissed. "Be original about the way you threaten someone, won't you?"

She charged at them, clippers aimed straight ahead. The human swerved to the side, letting her weapon get stuck in the wall, and brought their knife down upon her arm. They didn't expect to cut through the limb so cleanly, falling forward close enough for Glendora to dig her elbow into their stomach and knock them back.

She gripped the clippers with one of her remaining five arms and swung again. Again, the human sliced the arm off, this time kicking the weapon away from her reach at the cost of their own balance. The girl pushed them onto their back, taking their neck with two of her hands and reaching for their eyes with the others.

In a last-ditch effort, despite the pain in their arm, they changed the angle of their knife. Even with her thumbs mere inches above their eyes, they found control over their breathing.

 

**[ * No holding back now. ]**

 

Then, they swiped the blade across her neck and the knife caught in her flesh. She hovered with wide eyes for only a moment before they became vacant and she toppled over to the side. The shadows consuming her body faded. But, somehow, the body itself did not.

 _Don't they… usually turn to dust afterwards?_ they thought. Yet she was still there, limp and broken. An actual dead body caused by their own hands. And they had to sit there in silence for a full minute, their eyes never tearing away from the sight. No, their body would even let them look away.

They reached out to feel cold flesh.

They reached deeper into her chest. Their fingers were numb. That same "something" was nagging at them at the back of their head again, but this time they hadn't gone blind nor deaf from it. It wanted them to keep watching for some reason, and so they did.

They pulled out something from Glendora's body: Large shards of something glassy and void of light. They couldn't feel or control their hands anymore, but they could still barely see. Yes, they could see their possessed hand take back the knife from the girl's neck, which had been coated with a sticky and brightly colored substance. They didn't have the mind to question what this could possibly be, but it sure wasn't "blood".

The ghost that firmly grasped their wrist then forced them to dig the knife deep into their pre-existing wound, drawing out their blood. They unwillingly let the blood drip onto these glass shards, then slathered it onto their surfaces and stuck them together to form a heart. The blood sealed the cracks, the heart lit up a pure white, and they would soon feel the warmth of life radiate from its smooth, crystalline surface. By some gravitational pull, the heart returned to Glendora’s body. Her arms also flew right back to their rightful sockets, reattaching with very thin lines left in her skin where they were cut off.

Finally, the girl woke up. She shot up into a sitting position as if waking from a sudden nightmare. She then locked eyes with Frisk.

“What happened? Alice?” she questioned. Her eyes completely missed the wound on their arm, instead focusing on the tears in their clothes. “Oh my god! Your beautiful outfit! It's ruined, it's...”

The human leaned against her while she babbled on about the repairs she would have to make. She barely made out the part where she commanded them to stay awake. Miraculously, they stayed conscious. Perhaps by the help of them regaining their sense of feeling in their arms again… and, consequently, sensing the pain in their wound shoot through their nerves.

Glendora called for her spider servants. Once they were certain the coast was clear, they answered her call and brought out sticks of incense and some variety of potions. As she began pulling off their ruined outfit, Frisk grew dizzy, but they were finally calming down.

The room began to smell like birthday cake, and their mouth was filled with something that tastes like cherry tart. It was so sweet, they nearly puked.


	11. A Peaceful Night Passes By

“No, you can’t be serious! We haven’t gotten any reports from back home since we left. You're sure it's not just another one of your psycho followers?”

…

“So you really saw… yes. Okay. And is the human under your care now?”

…

“Okay, good. Thank you very much ma’am. We’ll call back later as soon as we can. Do not release them until we grant permission.”

The Duchess stood at the Old Queen’s dining table while Madam Gryphon spoke to someone else on her compact mirror in the other room. The "reflection" only showed an image of a spider lily, which meant that the queen could scowl as viciously as she wanted while feigning coolness in her voice. The Duchess could sense how her wife's body trembled under her armor.

After Madam Gryphon set aside the mirror in her belt pouch, she snuck down to the basement where the two queens entered in from. The Duchess watched her descend down the stairs into the dark tunnels, and she listened while her enraged partner screamed and cursed away into the nothingness. She remembered it being such a long time since she last threw a fit like this, but she also knew better than to interfere.

“Oh, that girl hasn't changed a single bit over the years, has she?” said the feeble voice of the old queen from behind. She emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray of meringue tartlets. She smiled so sweetly at the Duchess, but the way her face sagged made her look exhausted.

The Duchess quickly offered the old goat woman some help setting the tray down by the table, then guiding her to her recliner by the fireplace. The elder thanked her quietly, but jokingly scolded her for “treating her like a poor old woman.” The young queen smiled back at her, also looking rather tired.

The noise outside of the living room finally stopped. Madam Gryphon climbed back up the stairs and strode through the archway while rubbing her temples.

“Good to see you've finally settled down. Please, help yourself to some tarts. They're cherry and vanilla, my classic mix.” The old nanny motioned for the ladies to take their seats at the dining table. Madam Gryphon obliged without hesitation, but the Duchess remained standing.

“Lorie?” she called gently, placing a shaky hand upon her wife's shoulder. Her body was solid like a rock.

“Take a seat, honey,” the other sighed. “Better enjoy these goods now while we still have the appetite. God, I miss these so much.”

The Duchess pulled up a seat next to her partner, then took one of the tartlets and quietly nibbled on it. It was just the right amount of sweetness, as she always remembered.

“So, what are those reports you have been meaning to tell me, Edith?” the old queen questioned.

The Duchess licked the sweet from her lips before answering, “We've been trying to gather some materials to use as a beacon to ward off the Nightmares. We believe there might be something that may serve as a repellent, like how we discovered how badly piranhas hate lemons.”

“It's not the most pleasant smell to begin with anyway,” grumbled Madam Gryphon between chomps.

“We also had a bit of a surprise up by the Weepmire, but my wife and some allies were able to take them out before anyone got hurt.”

“And this special guest of yours--the human--were they with you during that time?” the elder asked, looking in Madam Gryphon’s way.

She huffed back, “Yes. Edith's pet brought them right to our door step, in fact. They would be here by now, too, but we've been forced to keep them back in the Ostewary to recover from an incident with one of our associates.”

“...Is that so?” the old queen asked coldly.

Madam Gryphon shot her a wary glance. “It is an unforeseen inconvenience, your Highness,” she continued. “Our herbalist had just called to say that a rather large Nightmare broke into her home and started attacking her and the human. When she tried to retaliate, she fell into a state of panic and blacked out through the rest of the attack. Thankfully, she's unharmed, but the human sustained serious damage during the defense.”

The Duchess stared at her wife with her eyebrows crinkled in concern. “B-but I thought we had ensured that her home was w-well fortified against that kind of thing?”

Madam Gryphon shifted in her seat, leaning towards the old queen, who diverted her attention to the fireplace. The look on the latter's face caused Madam Gryphon to stammer when speaking her next line. “You probably don't want to hear this, Dolores, but I was told that--like the incident we'd encountered in the Weepmire--man took on the appearance of…”

Suddenly, the old queen let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, surely it is not as dire as it sounds,” she claimed confidently. “Those vile creatures make you hallucinate all sorts of odd things. But, in the end, they are still pathetic and weak. You need not stress yourselves too hard.”

The two young women traded concerned looks. But Madam Gryphon kept talking, despite her better judgment. “Your Highness, they’ve been displaying a lot of unusual behavior. Especially after tonight's incident, we can't let the human go any further with that thing loose.”

“Nonsense! You can just send them to me with a chaperone, no?” the Old Queen insisted. "There is no reason for you to overcomplicate this matter."

The other's hand curled into a painfully furious fist. "You can't be serious!"

But, the old queen waved her hand dismissively. "Enough with the 'but's', Lorina. Surely you do not realize what kind of 'weapon' you possess, do you?"

Madam Gryphon shot up from her seat, stomping her foot on the wooden floor. “We are not using the human as a _'weapon'_ , Dolores! And we cannot bring them here under such critical circumstances! Think about what happened to your daughter when she fell to their darkness. Do we really want to risk a repeat of that scenario?”

“...'What happened to my daughter?' Really? Is _that_ how you wish to talk to me, now?"

Immediately, she began to regret that outburst. She along with her wife backed away while the old queen rose high above them both. She already sensed the irritation before, but now she had really thrust herself into the lion's den--now she'd be reminded of what a _real_ royal's wrath was like.

"Tell me, Madam: do you look down on me? Just because it is not  _I_  who sits upon that throne, you believe you can act with this  _ **ARROGANCE?** IS THAT HOW YOU WISH TO FALL?_”

Those words pierced the hearts--no, the very _souls_ \--of the two ladies like poison-laced needles. The Old Queen easily towered over them both, casting her long shadow of dark fury. Madam Gryphon knelt down by the quivering Duchess, who was also trying to catch her breath. In their state of weakness, the elder’s power was able to overtake them.

“O... o-of course not, Your Highness!” the Duchess said with a trembling and unwilling voice. She jolted at this unwarranted action.

“W-we don't mean to disrespect you like that... Your Highness,” Madam Gryphon added through clenched teeth. "We'll fetch them for you as soon as possible. We... _promise_."

The two exhaled as the grips on their hearts was released. The Old Queen then smiled at them both.

“I'm so glad to hear that.”

She shuffled over to the bookshelf in front of her. The two younger women looked silently at one another, taking hold of each other's hand and squeezing tightly. They refused to look up when the old woman spoke to them again.

“By the way, Edith, how is my son’s treatment coming along?”

 

* * *

 

The “sun” in Glendora’s had set and was replaced with a “moon” and many smaller lights meant to convey stars. Even with the lack of light, nearly a hundred spiders were swarming her mansion and cleaning up the mess caused by that morning's incident. Meanwhile, she and Patrick had carried Frisk up to one of her guestrooms to recover from their injuries, and they were instructed not to move since then. Once more,  they had to be stripped of a ruined outfit and left in bed with only their underwear.

The human sat in their dimly lit room, playing with some spider children and letting them crawl around their good arm. Just then, Patrick came in with a pot of pale purple and pink flowers. He flashed an awkward yet (somehow) charming smile as he set them down at their bedside desk.

“The missus told me to bring these to you,” he murmured. “They're called verbenas. Looks pretty, don't they?”

Frisk quietly shooed the little spiders off their body and into the darkness. “Thanks, Pat.”

The monster scanned the human's body and cringed. “So freaky. How did you even survive through that?”

“It's dumb luck, I guess,” Frisk answered with a shrug.

“Dumb luck my ass!” the monster blurted. “That girl told me that thing was hulking. It could probably splatter me with it's foot. Hell, I wouldn't even have my arm still if it... uh...”

The monster trailed off, finally noticing Frisk hugging themself tightly to keep themself from heaving. Realizing what he'd done, he shook his head, bowed, and apologized profusely to them. They found themself comforting him with a couple head pats. Somehow that just seemed to be a natural reaction for them now.

“I should get going anyway. It's late, you need sleep, and someone needs to keep the resort from getting trashed.” Patrick stepped away from their bed and went towards the door. “Get better soon, Frisk. G’night.”

Once the door had shut, the human shut off their bedside lamp and shifted onto their back. They wished they kept shut so he would have stayed longer. They wished anybody would come in and distract them right now. Not like they were in pain anymore, but they couldn't wipe those nasty images from their head all day. They couldn't even look Glendora straight in the eye while she treated them.

Luckily, when they shut their eyes, they saw nothing but the dark. They tried to imagine a pair of arms wrapping around their body, with somebody whispering “there, there” to them in their most soothing voice. Slowly, they were able to slip into a deep sleep with that thought…

 

_There, there. You’re going to be okay, Frisk. Here, let me cover that scratch._

_What was that? “Don’t patronize me”? Hah, you’re not_ that _sensitive, are you?_

_Seriously though, if you’re not careful playing here, you’re going to get hurt._

_You don’t want to worry people like that, do you?..._

_...Frisk? Hey, what are you doing? Come on, that’s not funny._

_Hey. Hey, don’t do that! You're going to--_

 

Frisk’s eyes shot wide open. The sudden boost of adrenaline yanked them up into a sitting position, and they looked around the room frantically for… nothing. No, nothing there except their tossed covers and the clock on the wall. Squinting through the darkness, they could read it was 4:34 AM.

They flopped onto their back and shut their eyes tightly, but they couldn't get themself to relax again. Something about that dream just now left them feeling uneasy, but they couldn't pinpoint _why_.

That had to have been one of their human friends’ voices, wasn't it? Maybe a relative?

_No, I never went out that often on the surface. My brain's just making up gobbledygook. It happens a lot._

They turned on their side and looked up at the flowers Patrick left with them. They weren't the most fancy looking flowers in their opinion, but the sentiment helped. They carefully reached out with their good arm to pluck one of them off their stem, but then quickly stopped when they noticed the pot begin to rattle.

The flowers tumbled out of the pit, along with some chunks of dirt. Another bigger flower bloomed in their place, yawning loudly and flashing its obnoxiously bright yellow petals. Without giving it the time to wake up completely, Frisk swatted the creature off the desk. The pot landed on the carpet with a gentle thud, but the rest of the dirt spilt all over.

“Agh! What the heck was that for?!” the flower shook his head and looked up at his assailant. All of a sudden, his leaves became a few shades paler. “Oh, no…”

The human leapt out of bed and snagged Flowey by his stem. They ignored his cries to stop as they marched out onto the balcony. With a cold and hardened gaze, they dangled his squirming body off the ledge.

“Frisk! Frisk!! Come on, don't do this!” he begged. “I don't even know how I got up here. Please, just put me back in the pot. I'm not going to hurt you!”

Frisk loosened one of their fingers.

“No, nonono, wait! I-is this about calling you an idiot that time? It was a spur of the moment, I'm sorry!”

They lifted a second finger.

“Please, Frisk,” he sobbed. “Don't do this to me. You're one of my only friends left.”

They paused. Flowey hung his head, whimpering with tears dripping out of his eyes. A burning sensation filled up the human's chest as they stumbled away from the ledge.

“...You really are serious about this, aren't you?”

Frisk returned him to the pot, scooping up as much dirt as they could back into it after setting it upright. Then they took the pot and set it into their lap once they reseated themself on the bed. Flowey blinked several times at them, his wet and beady eyes filled with a faint light. As a silent apology and a means of calming him down, the human lifted a hand to pet his petals. He immediately dodged from their attempts.

“Please don’t treat me like that fleabag,” he sniffled.

“Sorry.”

Flowey let out a few more deep sighs before finally regaining his composure. “Now then… oh, golly, what happened to your arm?”

Frisk looked at the gauze wrapped around their bicep. They briefly considered checking underneath the wraps, but rightfully decided against it. “I don't feel like saying anything until you tell me why you were hiding under those plants.”

“Aw, shucks. You make it sound like I hid here on purpose,” Flowey said with a frown. “I always come to this lady's garden to sleep. I must've been scooped up along with that bundle.”

Well, that wasn't an answer they were expecting.

Since he didn't budge on his answer, Frisk began to explain what had happened yesterday morning. Flowey raised his brow at the mention of the dark figure that attacked them, then winced at the mentions of more visceral detail. Frisk omitted the parts involving Glendora, both for his comfort and their sanity. By the end of the explanation, the flower was nodding solemnly.

“I've seen him before, I think.”

“What?!”

“I can't say for sure,” Flowey said. “I've seen him lurking outside of the towns, mumbling all sorts of creepy nonsense. He looks like he just crawled out of a sewer... or, maybe out of some oil spill. Maybe he’s an escapee?”

Frisk shook their head. “You would think that someone as brash as Madam Gryphon would have strict security for her prisons. Besides, you guys don't seem like the type to murder each other.”

"Oh, no, we've had plenty of teratocide cases. Last convict got sent to the guillotine just this week, in fact."

"Oh."

The flower paused again, face crinkling as he thought hard about any details he missed. His eyes widened and his lips began to tremble.

“That stuff on the man's cloak... that's not oil. That's the same kind of sludge we found in dad's garden. The one that turned into those Nightmares.”

Frisk froze up at the sudden new info. Flowey looked up at them hesitantly.

"I remember. I've seen him hiding out in the woods... _coating_ himself with those things, like it's supposed to act as some kind of armor. And yet, he doesn't fall into a panic attack or seizure like everyone else..."

The human looked back up at the clock. 4:39 AM. It was too early for them to be up, but there was no way they could go back to sleep anymore. Plus, the “sky” outside was already starting to become lighter and bluer. It was only a matter of time before morning fully realizes itself and awakens all the monsters.

They set Flowey’s pot back on the bedside desk. “When I get all healed up, I’m going to take you with me to see the queens. They need to hear everything you know about this guy.”

“Okay,” he replied slowly. “But… promise me something before before we go, okay?”

“What?”

“The gardener lady keeps some of that red paint for the roses in her shed,” he pointed out. “Use it on me before you leave so that I won’t be recognized along the way. You know, just in case…”

“Yeah, I know.”

Frisk reached down in the crevice between the desk and the bed for the fallen verbenas. They stopped shortly before tucking them back into the dirt with Flowey.

“Why do you two hate each other anyway? You didn’t do anything to cause trouble, did you?”

“Nuh-uh, of course not!”

“Then what’s the deal?”

…Flowey looked to the side in deep thought.

“I don’t hate him,” he admitted, “but I don’t know why he wants to kill me, either. I just feel like it’s better I play it safe.”

Frisk whispered “good night” to him, even though it was way too late for that, and let him hide under the dirt again. They carefully set the flowers on top of him, then they lay back in bed and turned over on their side. When their eyes refused to close, they quietly got out of bed again and tiptoed to the balcony. They leaned against the rails and looked up towards the changing sky. As everything around them became lighter, so too did the air within their lungs.

 

**[ *Watching the morning come to life before your eyes fills you with determination. ]**


	12. Morning Routine

The city surrounding the castle gradually woke up to a new day of hustle and bustle. The light of another beautiful day was cast upon the people. Some monsters kissed their loved ones goodbye before heading out to work or school. Other monsters left in pairs to seek a new adventure full of sweet memories. This was the nature of Wonderland, and very few outside factors dared to get in the way of it.

Walking above these cities on a pathway into the castle, the Red Queen’s courier followed the White Queen’s pet. They hauled red paint buckets and large brushes for their morning routine, marching on their way to the late king’s garden. How long this pair have had this routine the courier couldn't remember. He just knew that it was one of the few things that kept his dear friend peacefully occupied anymore.

“Hey, I hear that each of the Hosts are planning to release their very own singles.”

“Oh, really? All three of them on their own?”

“Yes! Mary just won't stop talking about how excited she is for Hatta’s song. Of course, she hasn't yet realized that nothing can beat the bombastic charm of Marchie.”

“Whaaat? You're not seriously telling me you prefer his overdone falsettos over harmonies like Dorie’s?”

“No offense, but if you're not strutting in heels like those on stage, you're doing it wrong.”

Those were the kind of conversations they shared on the way to the throne room. By the time they finally reached their destination, however, Cheshire would fall out of their chatter in favor of focused silence. Perhaps it was his way of giving respect to the king? Either way, it never bothered Jacque that much. Nowadays, the quiet was always a welcome sensation.

“Jacque.”

“Huh?”

“What would you do if you were the new ruler of Wonderland?”

Jacque held out the paint bucket for Cheshire to dunk his brush in. His hand glided smoothly over the roses, coating them in a fresh new layer of color. The paint then seeped into the petals and made a pleasant pattern of pink and red.

“I don't think the people would ever consider me for that kind of role,” Jacque said.

“Oh, don't downplay yourself like that,” Cheshire scolded. “Sure, a messenger boy wouldn't be my first pick for a king, either. That doesn't mean you're less qualified, though.”

The tall skeleton rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I do know the ins and outs of the kingdom better than most people. Plus, anytime I suggest some well-needed changes around here, Madam Gryphon won't listen to me. It's a darn shame, I tell you!”

Cheshire chuckled at his answer and nodded in understanding.

“What about you, Cheshire? How would you rule this kingdom?” Jacque asked.

The cat briefly hesitated mid-stroke. His tail flicked curiously at his question, swaying to-and-fro as he thought about his response. “Leadership isn't exactly my thing. My current position is good enough for me, I think.”

Jacque knelt down near his hardworking friend. “Surely you must have picked up a thing or two from living with the Duchess.”

“I'm a knave, remember?” Cheshire countered. “I have no place trying to fit into a seat like that.”

The two looked up at the ginormous throne at the center of the room. It was hard to imagine that there once existed a man who would sit on that very throne and not have any extra space around his bottom. Just the mere reminder of his size made the skeletons feel humble.

“...Even so, I'm not against the idea of taking on such responsibilities. Unlike some people.”

The bitterness in the cat's voice made Jacque’s bones rattle under his suit. He often heard his companion speak ill of someone out of earshot, and even he was eager to listen, but these words felt nasty on a whole new level. Furthermore, who was he even talking about?

“Well, if we ever face another crisis, I trust that you'll do the right thing for all of us,” he assured.

Cheshire quietly considered his words. His eyes crinkled in confusion.

“...Thank you.”

Silence flooded the space once again, and the two monsters remained close to each other in comfort. They eventually had to shuffle around the room to get to the other roses, which often broke their calm quiet. Cheshire’s steps hardly made much noise as he only ever balanced on his toes, but Jacque was quickly irked by the crunching under his shoes. It only took a few short minutes of this noise for him to set down the paint bucket, roll up his sleeves, and start snagging some of the once golden flowers from beneath the bed of roses.

“Cheshire, this place looks utterly miserable with all of these dead flowers underneath,” he complained. “Do you mind if I tidy this place up a bit?”

His companion gave him a shifty look. When Jacque returned with a hard stare, he sighed in defeat. “Uh, not at all. Here, let me get a trash bin for you.”

Cheshire straightened his back and sat still with eyes closed in concentration. His chest carefully inflated, then suddenly the top part of his suit deflated as grey smoke seeped out from his collar and his arm holes. The smoke gathered itself into a cloud before solidifying into his ribcage and landing in Jacque’s arms. The tall skeleton watched all of this with incredulous discomfort, awkwardly cradling the torso of his friend.

“This… works, I guess.”

“Oh, be quiet and start uprooting.”

But Jacque didn’t want to be quiet today. For reasons beyond his own understanding, he was attached to this conversation. He wanted to keep it alive. He wanted to keep his friend talking and hear everything he had to offer to him now. That spark between them will become a massive bonfire, even if he burns himself in the process.

“Cheshire.”

“What now?”

“I'm glad that you let me do this with you,” he admitted somewhat forcefully. “I miss this place a lot, but with the Royal Family gone… a-anyways, thank you for sharing your company.”

The cat set his brush down. He felt a sudden emptiness in his body--not because he somehow sat there without a ribcage, but because the mention of the Royal Family reminded him of something. Something he didn’t want to think about.

He looked back at the rabbit ripping out dead flowers from the ground. Then he began to smile a little bit. Perhaps he had a point regarding their dreadfulness.

“Don't sweat it, bro,” he replied with surprising tenderness in his voice.

“Bro?” Jacque’s ears perked up way over his head. “Why, you've never struck me as the kind to use that lingo before. Do you plan on using that more often?”

Cheshire’s smile faltered. As he carried the paint supplies outside of the room, he shot back, “I said no  _ claws _ for alarm, Mister Rabbit.”

Jacque huffed at his joke, turning his back towards him to hide his own stifled grin. “How distasteful!”

 

* * *

 

The two spent a good portion of that morning picking out the dead flowers from the living. Jacque had also urged that they took some time to polish the throne, including the one stashed in the back. Cheshire also found himself getting lost in the chores, humoring his companion with whatever trivial topic his friend brought up. In a way, it was a good distraction for him.

By the end of it, the throne room looked as good as new. The gold plating of the throne glistened beautifully under the rays of sunlight coming from the stained glass windows above. The garden was no longer littered with yellow decay. Not a single pale spot could be found on the roses.

When the two men looked at each other, it was with quiet pride.

Finally it was time for them to go home. Cheshire took the paint supplies while Jacque kept a secure hold of his flower-filled ribcage. The two made their trek out on the bridge above the city, now well lit by the sun and alive with activity and noise. The warm light hit them as well, leaving only their chilly shadows nipping at their backs. 

At this point, they would go back to their monotonous conversation from before, but something else was burbling in their throats. A sensitive topic and neither skeleton knew how to bring up. They just waited for the other to suddenly perk up and say what was on their minds.

Jacque was the one who eventually stopped them in the middle of the bridge.

“I wish the human would have gone easier on that Nightmare from the other day.”

Cheshire looked up with an alarmed expression. If he had any organs, Jacque would be able to spot his lungs suddenly heaving in an abnormal rate. The screams of that moment reverberated in his ears and almost manifested themselves in his own throat.

“D-do you…?”

“It's not out of pity, if that's what you're going to say,” the rabbit clarified defensively. “Nightmares don't feel real pain… at least, the Duchess hasn't confirmed that they do. But it was… unnerving, hearing my voice come out of that thing.”

Trying to alleviate the mood, but mostly desperate to avoid the topic, Cheshire countered, “Those things are born to mess with your head. You mustn’t think too hard about it, Jacque.”

But his friend wouldn't buy into his excuse. He shifted uncomfortably in his place, nearly spilling some of the collected dead flowers off the ledge. There was this deep, thoughtful look in his eyes that made Cheshire wish he would have shut up then and there.

“I think that's one of the ‘others’ the King talked so much about,” Jacque concluded quietly.

_ So he figured it out. _ Cheshire looked away, hiding his fearful eyes and instead cast it down on his own shadow. He couldn't find the words to respond to him with. A reassuring statement, maybe even a joke. He couldn't even outright deny that it was indeed his friend's pathetic alternate.

“Hey, what do you think your ‘other’ is like?”

Jacque didn't pay attention to his friend's face. He didn't get to see his hideous, scornful scowl, but at least he was spared from one of those migraine-inducing glares of his.


	13. We're Outta Here

_It looks like a warm day outside._

_Birds are singing, flowers are blooming…_

_Yet here I am, a kid like me,_

_cooped up in a room that’s not even mine._

 

This was but a brief yet lonely thought that passed through the human’s head during the early morning. The working spiders outside had taken a couple of hours of rest, and now they were heading back to the grind. Frisk watched them crawl across the balcony rails, along the walls, and up the water spout just nearby. They sat there in the chilly open air, silently waving at them while they called out in small, adorable voices, “Good morning, Alice.”

Alice. _Alice. “Al-iss.”_ It sounded nice, but the name just never sat right with them. They kept silently pronouncing the name in silly ways while they looked over the balcony rails towards the ground below. For a moment, they wondered how badly they would splatter from this high up. They retreated back to their bed shortly thereafter.

With Flowey still asleep in his pot, and them still being too wary to talk about Glendora after what happened the other day, Frisk thought it was about good time for some self reflection. Of course, they didn’t have the journal that they liked to write in back on the surface, so they had to search the room for some supplementary means of writing their thoughts.

They found an empty composition book and some colored pencils in one of the bookcases in the room. They settled in bed and began to scribble down their thoughts. As they recounted all of their journey, they remembered a question that had been nagging at them from the very start.

_Why is everyone so different?_

Eventually, they found themself snagging some loose-leaf paper to make some comparison sketches. Two figures stood side-by-side on each page, the left one being their former friends, and the right one being their weird counterparts. They crammed small notes in the free spaces nearby these figures to remind themself about the differences between the two.

It was a job that cost them over an hour, but they felt pretty comforted by the distraction. This way they could see what they were dealing with, and perhaps what was to come. The only thing that concerned them was Flowey and whoever the real Alice was. The former was virtually the same as his real-life counterpart, save for the lack of murderous intent. As for Alice…

 _No, I'm thinking too deeply into it_ , they convinced themself. _Maybe she’s just not that great of a person._

The flower pot on their bedside then began to sway. They held out their hands to catch the falling flowers and dirt, then poured the debris into the thankfully empty drawer. Slowly, Flowey rose and bloomed, twisting his stem around as if to stretch his body despite his lack of any real muscle.

“Good morning,” Frisk whispered.

Flowey quickly turned to them with an expectant look. As soon as they locked eyes, he shrank a bit, but he did offer the human a meek smile.

“Mornin’,” he yawned. “I didn't think you'd actually keep me around… hey, what are you up to?”

Frisk lifted the flower pot into their lap so he could get a closer look at their sketches. He silently yet carefully looked them over, swaying his head to and fro as he read their notes. They suddenly got a very child-like impression from him, which they felt like they should've had from the very start already.

“Not bad,” he commented. “It's a lot better than what I can… er, what I _could_ do. Do you like drawing?”

“Sometimes.” Frisk ran a hand through their hair, pushing through some of the tangles. “School where I come from was pretty boring, so I would scribble in my notes during the teachers' lectures a lot of the time.”

Flowey nodded at their words, still looking at one of their pages. He then began to giggle like the little boy he used to be.

“You did a nice job with Jacque.”

“You know him too?” They carefully shifted so they can bring the page closer.

The flower teetered his head in an attempt to shrug. “Duh. He looked after me and my sis all the time. Who's the guy standing next to him though?”

 _He knows the other Flowey, but he doesn't know Papyrus?_ Frisk opened their mouth to answer him, but they had already lost their voice. Their stomach twisted uncomfortably when they looked at that silly, familiar uniform. Their most recent memory of it was not so silly.

Flowey straightened up suddenly. “Oh, wait, I think I remember now! Alice and I made jokes about him all the time. His name was weird and I can't remember, but he was like a guardsman, right?”

“...O-oh. Yeah. Well, he tried to be.”

The human set the page down and focused upwards towards the ceiling. _Slowly and quietly now. In and out._

“Gosh, I loved hearing about everyone’s ‘others,’" the flower mused. "They're all the same as the people here, but just so different at the same time. It's nuts!”

“Others?” Frisk repeated.

Flowey nodded and smiled enthusiastically. “Everyone here has an ‘other’, someone from another world who’s just like them, but living a different life.”

The human's eyes rapidly traced the edges of that ceiling--just as rapidly as their ability to focus on their calm was dwindling. “And this other world is supposed to be my world?” they asked, already aware of the answer.

He giggled at them. “Well, duh! You don’t see any massive mountains for people like you to fall through, do you? You don't even belong here.”

Frisk tightly clutched the bed covers. “Right…”

“I always thought it would be pretty cool to meet the 'others',” Flowey continued. “I would have also liked to meet mine, but… you know how it is. That would be too awkward.”

The Flowey that they remembered as a child was definitely a major contrast from the Flowey they were talking to now. It was still rather hard to adjust to a version of Flowey that actually had emotions, though. It made him much easier to work with, though. Plus, they had to admit to themselves that it was pretty amusing.

“So, if those worlds are just reflections of themselves, how come it's only the Underground? Where's all the other humans?”

“...That’s kind of funny, actually. Alice asked that same exact question before.”

Their breath hitched. Flowey looked up with expectant eyes.

“So, when do we get to see the queens?”

 

* * *

 

At nightfall, Frisk grabbed a satchel to stash their notes and some extra potions inside. They snuck out of their room when they were sure no more spiders were active, and went down to the shed just as Flowey asked them to and painted his petals in a sweet-smelling burgundy. Then, after tucking away the materials as if to make them look untouched, the two made their escape from the garden.

Hot air blasted their faces as they left the dome, but they kept trekking on. Frisk was more bothered by their own thoughts. They were still disturbed by Glendora’s words earlier that day.

“Don't cause unnecessary trouble to yourself,” she pleaded. “You don't want to upset the Red Queen.”

Perhaps they should have just stay put like she asked. But it was too late now. Like the rebellious child they've always been, they kept going down the road they've chosen for themself. At least they weren't going down alone.

“Are you sure that paint is going to do you any good?” Frisk wondered aloud.

“So long as I close up my petals,” Flowey answered. “It's… not that hard? I don't know how to explain it.”

 _It's okay, I don't even want to hear it,_ Frisk confessed silently.

Once again, they were filled with the same anxiety they had when they first reached the Duchess’ home. There definitely had to be someone still inside, but whether or not they were awake was the real question. With no other way around to the other end, they proceeded towards the door and clutched the knob gingerly.

The once warm environment of the interior suddenly felt cold and eerie in the dark. The human stood silently at the doorway, opening their eyes wide to see any sign of life in the room. Neither sight nor hearing provided any evidence. They took their boots off before proceeding across the plank flooring towards the other door.

“Wait.”

Flowey quaked in his pot, already appearing to revert into bud form. However, his eyes were glued to the basement door.

Frisk put their ear up against the door. Sure enough, they heard a loud snore coming from below. They quickly slid away, continuing towards the exit. Flowey still watched the door but said nothing more of it.

Once on the other side of the building, they could have gone straight ahead towards the cave. Noticing a small crevice southward, the human immediately turned towards there. Though it was never originally there, they could tell there was something familiar hiding within. Perhaps this was just a part of their patchy memories, since Flowey hadn't yet questioned them.

In the dark hideaway sat a mysterious hooded figure on a boat. The stranger polished the rim of their watercraft with their own robes. They seemed unaware of their presence.

“Hello?”

The stranger perked up and looked at the human. They couldn't see a hint of a face under the hood. It was like a void of darkness in there… Frisk wondered if this was better that Patrick's taffy face anytime he got emotional.

“Um. You're a riverman, yeah? Can you take me down to… Yuleside?” They looked down at Flowey, who nodded at their pronunciation. “Yeah. To Yuleside, please.”

The river person hoisted themself up with their sleek wooden oar. They then brought one of their hands to what Frisk thought was their own chin and began to stroke as if there was a beard there. “Time is money,” they said. Their tone was indeterminable.

Frisk checked their apron pockets, then inside each pouch of their satchel. Not a single coin was found in either place. “I'm… sorry. I don't have any gold on me.”

The hooded figure shook their head. “No. Your time is money. Pay attention.”

Frisk turned away from the river person. They brought Flowey close to their face and, through clenched teeth, whispered to him, “What's this guy saying?”

“No idea.”

And yet, not wanting to make yet another long and wet trek through the Weepmire, the two boarded the boat.

 

* * *

 

_Tra la la…_

Frisk leaned back in their seat while the river person steered the boat down the slender path. The water parted easily for them, and it echoed pleasantly throughout the cave-like tunnel. The river person insisted on breaking the quiet with their joyful humming. Neither the human nor the flower could say it made this voyage pleasant.

“So, um. Do you know where I could--”

“Almost ten years.”

“What?”

“Almost ten years I've done my trade,” the river person spoke up. “Almost ten years since my streams have been littered with muck and clutter. Know why that is?”

Flowey answered in their place, “Sounds like bad luck to me.”

“If that's what you wish to believe.”

Frisk shifted in their seat, cradling his pot in their arms. “You seem like a guy who knows things, right? Did you happen to see this creepy guy covered in dark gunk lurking around?”

The river person wheezed and cackled, but still they couldn't determine for the life of them what kind of voice they were hearing. It was hushed yet clear, raspy yet sage. It was highly unnerving, especially since they didn't know what was so funny.

“There are many 'creepy guys' that lurk about, even in the smallest crevices of the earth,” they finally claimed. “In this world, a man like me--or a woman, it doesn't really matter--holds any amount of darkness or gunkiness in their hearts. It makes no difference whether they exude it outside of their shells or contain it within.”

“That doesn't answer my question,” Frisk said, brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Oh. Well.”

They traded another look with their flower friend, who simply shrugged calmly at them. Not wanting to further their migraine, they kept quiet for the rest of the trip. Eventually the group approached another ledge and the boat slowed to a halt. The passengers climbed out of the boat eagerly. However, looking down the path, they found no snowy plains but a damp, fungi-lit pathway.

“Hey, I asked you to bring me to Yuleside!”

“It is not the right time for you yet,” the river person said. “Stay here for the night.”

“And where am I supposed to go for that? There's nowhere to…”

Just as they looked away for that split second, the river person was gone. Frisk's face turned red and even their eyes began to burn a little.

“Frisk?”

They took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling, not even bothering to respond to their partner. Thankfully, he knew not to push them. They both knew anyways that there was no use in standing around and whining. They just had to keep going by foot, and they figured their first step should go towards whatever was making such a ruckus at the end of the tunnel.


	14. Watch Where You're Going!

Frisk gagged on the clouds of purple haze that suddenly invaded their breathing space. This was the third time now that they were subjected to these obnoxious fumes, yet somehow this time was _worse_ than before. They were almost certain that beyond the smell of cotton candy and buttercream they also detected something stronger… almost like vodka. Vapid memories of their most recent parties were triggered by that notion, and suddenly they were less excited to see what kind of party was taking place up ahead.

“What's wrong?”

Somehow, Flowey was oblivious to the fumes. He had also noticed the change in color of the air, but that seemed to be about it. He was a plant, they supposed, but they didn't have the proper air to remember how exactly they respirated.

“Could you remind me…” They paused to gasp. “...who makes this stupid air?”

“We don't have to keep going. We can turn back. I'm sure someone will look after us for a while. Someone like, um… Father William! He's really trustworthy...”

Flowey trailed off, noticing the firm look in their eyes. His demeanor melted into quiet familiarity, and inevitably admiration. “No, you're not like that, are you? You want to keep going.”

They nodded.

“...Okay. I trust you. Just be careful.”

Though they had to stop to regain their senses every now and then, the human stayed firm on their trail. They were guided by a pleasant sound in the distance, and the closer they got the more clear the notes became. Chord progressions, a bassline that went at a heartbeat’s pace, a harmony of voices. They almost could have stepped in time with the rhythm were it not for the dizziness, although somehow they were beginning to adjust to it. The confusion was almost… _haha_. They giggled lightly to themself. They weren’t sure why. They had already lost their train of thought.

Something appeared up ahead. A clearing with a large stage at the center. Swarms of monsters surrounded the platform, making an ocean of screaming fans. There were three different names being chanted, but altogether these voices were drowned out by those who actually had microphones.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, beauties!”

Frisk was fascinated by the dancing dolls on the stage. Sure, the place smelled like a vape-infested high school party, but this was a downright concert! They always wanted to go to more of these, but they felt too awkward to attend them alone. _When was the last time I went with the folks?_

“What's that? I can't hear you! How do I know if you’re feeling… THIS?”

A heavy rumble traveled from the ground straight up to their heart as a beat dropped. They dropped the flower pot they were carrying. It gave out a small cry when it shattered. They felt like they should pick it back up but…

“Altogether now! _Si-re, si-re… Si-mi, si-mi…_ ”

Something called after Frisk, but they didn't know what or who. Actually, they didn't know if it was even _them_ they were calling for. They were calling a name… very persistently to, but… _uh…_

 

**[ * Isn’t that your name? ]**

 

_Oh… oh, god…_

Suddenly, they felt a lot less comfortable with their surroundings and what this haze was doing to them. They were already too close to the wave. They got sucked in before they got a chance to turn back around. Monsters of all different shapes and sizes raved and jumped around them, rendering them as active as a bumper car in a restricted environment. Very faintly they could still hear someone outside calling out for their friend. This was one hell of a concert if someone could get lost that quickly.

Frisk tried to nudge their way out of the crowd, hollering “excuse me” and “passing by” as loud as they could over the music. Alas, their voice just wasn’t high enough, and in fact it was hurting from the effort. Their only option left then was to push through the crowd with all of their strength, and even that was a struggle.

They eventually broke free from the crowd, taking down one of the monsters with their last shove and collapsing on their knees. The fallen--and apparently armless monster, rolled around and groaned. Thankfully, he was able to hoist himself up into a sitting position, evidently experienced with his handicap.

“Yo, you’re supposed to push _up_ , not _forward_ ,” he said teasingly. Frisk just blinked at him, nodding at his words but at the same time not really paying attention at all. He seemed to be about their age, carrying the same bright look in his eyes as an innocent child would. He was also sporting a black t-shirt with a stack of white hats printed on the front. They couldn’t say they understood the design very well.

“Yeah, sorry, thanks.” They immediately hoisted the other back up to their feet. “Are you okay?”

“Who, me? No worries, man. I trip myself up all the time!”

“Oh, uh, good to know. So, who am I? Ugh, idiot! The question is who are _you_.”

“Dude, are you okay? You look, like, totally blazed.”

“I… I don’t know.” Frisk shook their head before facing the monster teen. “Honestly, I’m… lost, I think? I was supposed to head somewhere important. I’m pretty sure someone else was telling me about it, wherever they went.”

“Ha! There’s only one thing that important around here, dude,” he cheered. “You’re definitely at the right place. This concert is, like, the only talk of the whole marsh!”

Somehow, that didn’t sound right. The music was a total bop, though. And now that they got a good look at the stage from this new angle, the people leading the show were… well. Frisk sure didn’t object to a little bit of a distraction for now. So, they followed their new friend back into the raving crowd, still dazed and amnestic, but at least they had something to enjoy for a while.

A very, very short while.

 

* * *

 

Flowey, still alive by some miracle, had long since hidden himself away in the dirt.

Six feet above him, he could still feel the heavy stomps of the monsters’ feet. He wondered how long they’ve been going at it since he and Frisk had gotten there, or if their feet were even starting to tire out. He wondered how long he would last doing that if he still had his feet. He wondered and wondered many things until he fell asleep and found his roots turned into legs and his leaves into arms.

 _This is my body,_ he quickly discovered. But he couldn’t move his limbs at all. He was neatly tucked under an old blanket, staring up at a ceiling, still and dull. His bed was stiff, yet it was sufficient. He remembered the ceiling and how it almost looked just like the floor. He couldn’t even turn his head to look downwards and compare to it.

Alas, he could only soak in this dream for a while. A very, very short while.

When he heard a door crack, he opened his eyes. Stuck in a damp hole again, with tiny roots and leaves. God, he missed his fingers.

The flower sprouted from the ground and surveyed the area. The stage was still standing, but everyone who had surrounded it were missing. There was no more lights or purple haze. Silence had taken over. Something dripped from the front of the stage, but Flowey chose to ignore it.

“Hello?” he called out half-heartedly. But nobody came.

No one ever came to his call for a while now.

Sometimes, just like these, he wished he had the same amount of luck as his “other” did when “he” endlessly called to the nothingness. He wished that when he called his sister’s name she wouldn’t come in the form of a hallucination. He wanted her to come scoop him up into her hands, gently cradle his fragile form, give him shelter from the world. There was no one else in the world that he wanted any more than her.

Even though his father had left this world.

Even though his mother had abandoned it.

If Alice were with him, he would have been fine.

If Frisk had turned back, he would have been fine.

If he wasn't such a stupid little coward--

He blinked back his tears before returning to the soil and digging his way out of the area. _I can’t keep doing this_ , he thought. _I have to be strong, like Dad was. They know their way around this place. I’ll just have to meet them at the spot._

They paused on their trail when they felt footsteps trampling on the dirt on top of him. He sprouted to look at who passed by. He saw both of the current queens frantically running into the distance, slowly coming to a stop as the Duchess bent over and wheezed. Madam Gryphon turned sharply on her heels and immediately came to her side.

“Edith, are you okay? I told you, I can handle this. Just go--”

“No! Not alone… we have to keep…”

“Let me carry you, at least.”

Right as the two were in the midst of fussing, something dark and malformed darted right past them. It slithered through the air in the same rushed manner as them, but it didn’t slow down to acknowledge them in any way, nor did it look willing to stop for anyone. Flowey was already hiding behind his petals as this thing passed by.

“God damn it, he’s already loose! I told him to stay put!” A magic halberd had already appeared in Madam Gryphon's fist, and she threw it in the direction that the cloud disappeared. Flowey was fairly sure it wouldn't have hit anything anyway. Surprisingly, however, the weapon fizzled out before it even hit the ground, and Madam Gryphon fell onto one knee, wrapping one arm tightly around her midsection.

“Lorie… please…”

The Duchess was able to recover her breath, and she then waddled over and clung to her wife. Madam Gryphon's breathing in turn shuddered. She leaned into the embrace, quickly retracting her hold from her stomach and laying her tightly-balled fists on the ground.

"I'm sorry. I just..." Her fingers clawed at the dirt. " _Shit._  We should have been able to handle this."

“It's okay, Lorie," assured the Duchess, gently patting her partner's back. "He doesn't know what he's doing. Let’s just focus on getting back home. I can access the monitors so we can see where they’re headed, and we'll call on reinforcements from there. But that means you have to stand down, okay?”

“Okay. I trust you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Madam Gryphon, despite her wife's shrill protests, hoisted the Duchess up onto her back and carried her away from the area. Flowey watched them, wanting to follow them, but was held in place by a thought that nagged at the back of his brain. Seeing such compassion like that, something he’s wanted for so long, he whispered her name with his trembling voice.

He felt his petals being brushed by a dainty little hand. They were soft. It was one of his more vivid imaginations. He could remember her voice crystal clear, and he remembered the words that he would have been told in moments like these.

 

**Don’t start crying now, dummy.**

**You have to do what's best. Only you know for sure.**

 

Flowey turned the other way, burrowing into the ground again and travelling in the direction the cloud had gone. It wasn't the way he was supposed to go, but he didn’t have the mind to care. He was driven. He wasn’t about to slow down now.

At least he could hold onto the hope that they would be okay in the end. This world was the same as the other one. These people were… more or less the same as their “others”, too. If those guys in the Underground get to have their miracle, then so should the people of Wonderland. And no matter what, he was determined to give his people that chance.


	15. All In a Chilly Yuleside Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more bloodshed! more murder!! more psychopathy!!!  
> more needless mystery?!?!  
> also, which weapon is cooler: a clawed gauntlet, a trident, or a chainsaw? (i'm more of a firearms gal myself, but a trident is my next safest bet.)

_Fuck that man._

_Fuck him, and fuck that miserable girl for letting all of this happen._

_I’ll wring their dirty little necks if I see another scratch on them._

_So help me God--_

A certain skeletal feline had been riled up thanks to an awkward (and, in his personal opinion, hideous-looking) cat monster coming to his door with some bad news. He had called the queens to tell them what had happened. But instead of waiting for them to return, he immediately charged out the door on his own hunt, knowing full well what his master’s wife could do to him when he came back.

He didn’t care. Not in the slightest.

_She should be more worried about what kind of Soul she's going to pass on to that little girl of hers._

Cheshire made a beeline through the Weepmire. He reduced himself to smog for faster travel. He didn't have to worry for senses like hearing or smell. He already knew how to track his human down… they were just that close, after all! Oh, yes, he was so sure of it.

He did stop once when a certain sight caught him off guard. Re-solidifying, his feet came into contact with Nightmare substance. It had thickened beyond its usual viscosity; some of them were slain a long time ago. But he was certain that he and the others had cleared them out of the area for a good long while. Well, it wasn’t uncommon for them to overlook some minor ones, he figured. They have been getting more and more elusive lately, like tiny little fruit flies.

There was something else there… or maybe not. Cheshire thought he noticed something shifting and changing shape in the darkness. And that smell…

It smelled like--

He cocked his head towards a faint wail beyond the lake. He quickly discarded his suspicions and collapsed into smoke form once more before following the noise, hoping to finally find his beloved and go home.

 

* * *

 

Frisk woke up surrounded by tall grass. Frosty air nipped at their skin, though their left side didn’t feel the breeze at all. They couldn’t feel their left arm. They couldn’t control it. It had been burnt to a still warm and very flakey crisp. So, with their other functioning arm, they wiped the cold sweat from their forehead. Blood was smeared all across it.

“Yo, stay low!” a somewhat familiar voice hissed.

The monster teen from earlier crouched down near them. His face was a bit blurry, and they couldn’t tell if those were white hats on his shirt or perhaps a sloppily designed snowman design. It hurt their skull too much to focus on the fine details. Or to even remember what their own name was. They really hoped they would have figured that out by now…

“You alright?”

They just nodded.

“That big guy really packed a punch,” the teen said. “We’re lucky the Hosts came ready with their chainsaws and fancy buzzsaw hats. That stuff cut that sucker right into the bone!”

Frisk tried to come up with a response as they sat up, but could only find themself breathing raspily. Still, their confusion and concern shown in their furrowed brows and them biting their lip. It took a moment for the monster teen to pick up on their silent message.

“Oh, you want to know where you are now, huh?” He carefully settled himself down into a sitting position, smiling awkwardly. “Well… I forgot to run off with everyone else. And since you got knocked out by the big guy’s magic, the Hosts told me to carry you back to the Yule. It’s just beyond this grass here.”

Frisk wondered how the hell the armless monster managed to do that, but they were thankful for it nonetheless.

Three figures rustled the grass, poking their heads into their one-sided conversation. Their clothes and their weaponry were coated in dark, oily substance, and the figures themselves only had severe scratches on their arms and legs, exposing their cotton insides. They were just dolls, after all. Frisk vaguely remembered hearing their names before passing out after the ambush, and they pushed past their headache to remember more clearly.

“What are you darlings still doing here? We told you find shelter in town,” scolded Marchie, the attractively pink doll. There was no way they could forget his name. His smile captivated them right away when they spotted him up on that stage, and already they felt a lot safer in his presence.

There was his paler twin, Hatta, standing just behind him with sullen eyes that kept looking back. They quietly whispered “oh no” to themself, anxious for a beast’s arrival. Then there was the oddball one… Dorie, they believed, with a sorrowful looking fish head, like some reverse mermaid situation. She whimpered at the sight of their arm and hid behind her coworkers. They all looked pretty weary either way. Heaven knows what they had all just gone through in the last hour now.

“I got tired, so I thought we’d just hide until… what’s-their-face woke up,” the monster teen said. “Are you guys alright?”

“We’re about as well as we’re going to get,” Marchie answered. “For now, we need to focus on getting the Yule on lockdown and…”

He trailed off when he got a good look at Frisk’s left arm. He dropped his gorgeous smile and was stuck observing the damage flesh before finally murmuring, “Good lord. This is as serious as I feared.”

When everyone had properly gathered their thoughts and strength, they stepped out of the grassy patch and carried each other westward. The air got colder and dryer, even with the river gently sloshing nearby. Frisk and the monster teen were ushered to the front of the group, as the three dolls stayed on the lookout for followers. As they kept walking, however, a thick mist enveloped the scene. Just as they stopped right in the middle of it, they could only see a few feet away from them.

Hatta darted their head side to side. “Did you guys hear something?”

“What is it, cousin dearest?”

“What, what? You’re so quiet.”

The monster teen’s eyes suddenly bulged. He nudged Frisk, then nodded his head towards the path behind them. “Dude, look!”

They had only a split second to react, and their first instinct was to yank the monster teen down as they ducked. Dorie tried to give her warning, but it was too late. Something dark darted through the mist like a bullet, knocking Marchie upside the head and getting bounced back some meters away from the group. It landed as a blob at first, but then slowly took form as an emaciated man slowly standing upright onto his toes, a segmented tail swaying slowly behind him.

Frisk… remembered this man. They remembered him from several dreams they had, looking after them and having friendly chats with them. It was the first clear memory they received, and they stood up eagerly to better see his face.

“There you are,” the skeleton purred. “You had me worried sick, dear.”

The two other dolls helped Marchie up onto his feet. Hatta looked closely through the mist and gasped upon identifying the figure’s shape. “That’s… the Duchess’ cat?”

_That voice… those eyes…_

“A cat?” Dorie repeated nervously.

_Wait… now I know…!_

Marchie wasn’t nearly as shocked as his bandmates, grimacing at his assailant. “Oh, you little grimalkin--”

“Cheshire!!”

Frisk rushed towards the skeletal feline, opening their arms for him, yet only being able to catch them in a half-hug. He was… actually kind of uncomfortable to knock into like this. But it didn’t matter. Seeing him, feeling his boney arms wrap around their body, they finally found themself again.

Then, they felt his hand tremble against their back.

“Your arm,” he said with a trembling, disturbed voice. “What did they do to your arm?”

…

“WHAT DID YOU IDIOTS DO?”

Frisk winced at his sudden roar. They shut their eyes tight, braving the sudden wave of pain caused by their headache. There was no question he could have killed any one of the people behind them for an answer. Yet no one gave him anything.

“H-hey…  dude.”

The monster teen’s voice was uncertain, but filled with false bravado. The human stood still, staring at the glowing features on Cheshire’s suit instead of turning around. Soon enough, they could also block out the noise of what was to come.

“If… if you’re working with that big guy who attacked us, you’d better b-back off! W-we’ll f… freak your stuff up, yo!”

Feeling the tension in his human’s body, Cheshire gently caressed the back of their head. They let him take control of the situation for now. Even though they knew the others wouldn’t understand it at first, this was much more comfortable.

“Heh heh… your act is admirable, kiddo. The Red Queen would appreciate guts like yours, but me? I don’t care. I just want to take back what’s mine and go home.”

“Oh, um… Cheshire, was it? Did you even see what that big guy did back there?”

“I said I _don’t care_. If you need me to file in a report to my master, speak your piece now, otherwise you’d better prepare to pay for your reckless behavior later.”

Over Cheshire’s shoulder, Frisk caught sight of a hulking figure through the mist. Its cape dragged against the ground, and its head was hung low up until it felt the human’s lingering gaze. The figure then raised its head. Sharp horns angled over it, giving it the feeling of a devil. Only in the moment where the figure raised his massive trident did Frisk’s breath get caught in their throat.

“Ch… Cheshire--”

The dolls and the monster teen all gave out blood-curdling shrieks while the human was blown onto their back, with their companion stuck onto them. His ribcage snapped against the trident’s prongs, which had also dug into the human’s. They couldn’t summon the air to scream, neither in pain nor for worry. They could only stare up at the blooded trident sprouting up from their bodies, trying their best to avoid glancing at the fear in Cheshire’s eyes.

Then came shrouded figure, coming over to clasp his oversized fork and help himself to a big portion of soon-to-be corpses. Before he could pluck the two from the ground, he looked away from them. His glowing eyes widened, and the human was taken aback by his sudden reluctance. No, this wasn’t something new. They recognized that look of pain and regret in his eyes.

**Please… don’t look at me.**

He was talking to the others. They craned their head upwards, seeing them trembling in one small bundle upside-down. The hosts were prepared with their respective weapons, all guarding the monster teen cowering behind them. Even when they were the ones full of fear, the man towering over them was the one who backed away and pleaded. They couldn’t understand it.

**Please…!**

“Frisk…”

Something was beating against their chest… no, even closer than that. The beating was sucking them in. They were melting into it, heart and soul. And the same voice that whispered to them was speaking all sorts of fears and doubts in their head. They realized that they were words that were never meant for them to hear. They ate up every last syllable and inflection with perverted sentimentality.

“What’s happening…?”

They looked down only once before tightly clutching onto Cheshire’s body and pulling themself deeper into the rushing sensation, causing his body to collapse into theirs.

Everything faded from view.

It was just them and him. Red and turquoise. Human and Monster.

And slowly,

           gracefully,

                  _euphorically_ , they weaved into each other in such a way that felt as natural to them as rebirth. Then, the new entity woke up, and ripped the trident from their body. Their wound sealed up almost immediately, concealing the souls dancing within. But there was enough time before then for the darkened figure to witness it and step back. And, even if only for the briefest moment, it looked as if there was a trace of recollection in his eyes.

 **So, you have finally figured it out,** he noted bitterly.

The new entity wasn’t sure who to let control their voice. Both souls agreed, however, that they wanted this figure to _leave them alone_ , and so they pulled up their murder weapon and chucked it back in the man’s direction. He caught it with minimal recoil, but he still backed away, _quickly_. Against his own will, he was smiling.

 **It must be such an honor, is it not?** he said with rumbling calm. **To witness firsthand a human’s will to survive?**

He wasn't looking at them.

When the fusion turned around, they found the other monsters crowding around each other. Dorie and Hatta were prying the monster teen away from the scene, telling him “it’s time to go home,” despite the poor boy pushing back in denial. Meanwhile, Marchie was revving up his chainsaw, his focus darting between the shadowed man and the new creature that had appeared before him. None of them looked in awe. The fusion was trembling in their boots.

 **It must be an honor, then, to see one be struck down before their true nature unfolds,** the shadowed man concluded grimly.

The fusion looked to Marchie with pleading eyes. When he responded with frigidity, their eyes suddenly turned sharp. The souls within were finally figuring out their proper roles, and one of them took hold of the head.

“So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

Marchie was the one to charge first. The fusion, though clumsily, jumped out of the way. He was unable to redirect the swing of his chainsaw, lodging it in the arm of the shadowed man, who then roared fiercely. Bright red liquid splattered onto the ground, staining his hands, shimmering with golden glitter. He promptly ripped the doll from his side and cast him behind, never tearing his focus away from his real enemy.

One soul called upon the power of the other, and bright magic creeped along the fusion’s arms to form long knives that branched off their fingers. Then, they turned and swiped at the shadowed man. Several times their attacks were deflected by the handle of the man’s trident, but one quick uppercut caught him off-guard. Their claws tore through his cloak, clashing against his armored chest. The texture of this clash resonated with one of the souls.

 

**[ * You’ve felt this before... ]**

**[ * ...You want to feel it again, don’t you? ]**

 

They reluctantly prepared for a second strike, but the pink doll returned with a shoulder bash, knocking them to the ground before driving his weapon into the same place they were first struck. The fusion howled and cried and cursed, a flurry of color spraying from their wound, although the impact wasn’t as intense this time. They were crying with rage. Marchie pushed down further, trying to keep them in place, yet somehow they managed to reach up and slash through the doll’s arms. Thoughtlessly, Marchie stumbled back. And he kept going further and further when the fusion brandished themself with his own weapon.

“It’s over,” they announced. “Leave us alone now. We’re here to fix this place, okay?”

But when the fusion began stumbling towards the stumbling doll, one side of the fusion suddenly stammered, “Wait, what are you doing?”

 **Stop at once, demon,** commanded the shadowed figure, pointing his prongs at the fusion. But this only caused them to jump into a sprint. He then stormed after them, raising his trident over his head and bellowing once more, **Stop this slaughter!**

“We’re done here! Don’t do this!” that same side screamed at themself. “We don’t have to do this!!”

 

**[ * b u t   i t   w a s   t o o   l a t e . ]**

 

The pink doll was struck down. Again.

And again.

And again.

And again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again,and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again,and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again,

until, finally, the fusion grew tired of hacking the poor doll up into bits, and threw away the worn out chainsaw.

The shadowed man made a last ditch effort and chucked his trident again. His tear-blinded eyes caused him to miss, only nicking the side of the fusion’s face. Having already failed this second encounter, he withdrew into the mist, his discarded weapon seeming to dissipate behind them. Beyond that, the fusion heard the distraught cries of the doll’s loved ones fading away. Seems they were still within range of seeing their crime. A part of them had shared their terror.

They gingerly picked up Marchie’s head, the only piece of his body that remained intact. His eyes were closed.

_He looks serene._

_He looks horrible._

“So that’s how it is.”

The souls were confused. The souls were bickering at each other, and it was such a jumbled mess that it felt like there were more than two voices going on in their collective head. They picked themselves up at last, dropping the head, and trudged on westward out of the mist.

It was especially chilly in Yuleside that night.


	16. Brotherly Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i owe everyone a feel-good chapter after these last few ones. lord knows i need it too.  
> this argument... hits just a Little too hard for me. ehehe.

Most residents in the Yule had already tucked themselves away in their homes. They had all assumed it would have been a quiet night, either getting ready for slumber, or perhaps just enjoying their privacy as their bodies allow themselves to wind down. But the crying heard off in the distance snapped many of them out of their late daze, and soon enough half of the town was restless.

As one of the main overseers of the town, it was Jacque Rabbit’s duty to quell their fears. He stepped out into the snow, still dressed only in his tawny night robes, all just to offer an uplifting speech for his people. “I shall speak with our queens immediately about this,” he announced. But this notion only worried some people further, making them wonder if they had been overreacting all along. Still, the people retreated back into their homes, allowing Jacque to drop his smile and slide a hand over his poor, tired eyes. Beside him during the commotion was his maid, a rosey bunny still in uniform, and her sleepy child.

“Do I need to arrange some things around the house, sir?” she asked.

“No need, Mary,” he sighed. “Go ahead and take your little one back home. Ann must be worried sick about you two.”

The skeleton returned to his home, taking long strides up the stairs and towards his room, all the while wondering if he really did need to trouble the queens at such a late hour. Surely, they wouldn’t want anyone bothering them unless it was absolutely life-or-death? Maybe the situation wasn’t at all that serious? He could go out and investigate for himself if he really wanted. Sure, he wasn’t warrior-made, but even couriers risk life and limb to deliver their word, didn’t they? And maybe--oh, just maybe--if he showed his prowess, one of these days Madam Gryphon would--

His standing mirror chimed loudly just as he settled down at his desk. In a fright, he rushed to accept the call right as the second ring ended. Madam Gryphon’s image rippled into view, a bit distorted by the size differences between their mirrors. Where he stood at attention to her call, she was settled alone in bed.

“Good evening, Mister Rabbit,” she greeted tiredly.

“Ah, Your Highness!” he began with feigned enthusiasm. “I see you’re lacking armor. And clothes… and undergarments.”

“Astute observations as always,” the queen replied sarcastically. “Not that I intended on sleeping so early, but as we've been sent home early, Edith insisted I take a backseat while she handles some particulars. Anyways, have you seen that stupid cat anywhere?”

“Pardon?”

The woman brushed her rusty red hair back, tucking the loose locks behind her fins. “Cheshire. Your ‘best friend’ or whatever. He ran off not too long ago even though I told him to stay put.”

 _Something tame for once_ , he foolishly thought. “He’s never liked listening to you. Besides, what could be keeping him from coming back home?”

The queen suddenly let out an aggravated sigh.

“There’s too much going on tonight,” she began with eyes closed. “I don’t want to push it all on you; you have a town to keep occupied. Just know that it is urgent that you notify me when you see him or the human.”

“The human? I thought they would have been under your care by now?” Jacque asked, a cloud of worry filling up his chest.

A harsh round of tapping on his window interrupted their conversation. The skeleton excused himself before ending the call, dismissing the queen’s reflection, then moving to investigate the noise. Wondering if it were some kids tossing pebbles at the glass (they were few and far between, but it wouldn’t be his first encounter), he opened the window and leaned out, ready to belt his lungs out at the first person he saw. Instead, he found himself pulling inside a creature he had never seen before. Its skin was rough and pale, and its forearms had a split going down the middle. He couldn’t see its face past the dark, matted hair. Something neon dripped from its stomach and stained his carpet, to which the creature actually… apologized for?

“Sorry, buddy,” it whispered raspily as it passed by him.

Jacque kept his distance from the creature, letting it trudge on over towards his door, as if it already knew the layout of his home. He followed it outside and down the stairs, avoiding its trail of bodily fluid, all the while trying to find his voice so he could tell this stranger to leave his home at once. At the very least, seeing as the creature was far too injured to pose as a threat, he would have demanded that it pay for his cleaning bill. How could he possibly shove that kind of responsibility onto poor Mary?

The creature stopped at one of Jacque’s love seats. With legs trembling and its thin tail between its legs, it began to share a conversation with itself. That’s when Jacque could more clearly hear the two different voices it carried.

“We don’t have to split now.”

“Just be quiet. This day has been long enough already.”

“I’m really sorry…”

“ _Don’t_. Please, just… just don’t, okay?”

The creature teetered back and forth before two figures emerged from its frame. One stepped back while the other fell forward into the cushions. They each had large tears in the center of their clothes, revealing intensive scratches on the surface of their bodies. By then, Jacque was finally able to produce sound.

He used it to scream after he stepped backwards and inevitably slipped on a puddle of neon fluid.

“NYAAAH!!”

“Jacque!?”

Cheshire leapt from the now unconscious Frisk’s side and pulled Jacque back up to his feet. He began to apologize profusely for the mess on his friend’s robes and on his floor and for breaking in on such a short notice, but then the rabbit slapped his hands against either side of the other’s face. Effectively silenced, the feline was forced to look his friend in the eyes, minty irises enlarged with shock. Though, he had already expected a reaction like that anyway.

“Pray tell, my dearest friend,” Jacque started wearily, “what in the good god damn did I witness just now?”

Cheshire pried himself away and, carefully pawing at the wound he was just now finding on himself, responded, “I… don’t actually know either. It all happened so fast. I…”

Jacque perked his head up at the sound of ringing from his room. “Madam Gryphon,” he whispered. It was his instinct to run upstairs, but Cheshire tugged back on his sleeve, holding a finger to his mouth. Then, after releasing his sleeve, the feline quickly tip-toed his way up the stairs. Jacque expected him to pull of a trick on the way, but nothing happened. His friend just disappeared into the door. He wasn't interested in listening to the following conversation; it was obvious how well that would turn out.

With nothing left to do while his friend was chatting up to his boss, Jacque watched over Frisk's body. A faint red glow encompassed their body which made him hesitant to touch them. The barrier didn’t hurt the first time he did so, but it felt weird and congealed, like the human was coated in jello. Somehow, the memory of that disgusted him more than the fact the first time this happened his boss had to execute the poor thing. _At least they can sleep to their heart’s content,_ he thought.

Cheshire was able to finish his business with the queen in a couple of minutes, and he drifted out of the room. An unpleasant look was stuck on his face. Jacque watched him quietly from the cleaner loveseat, anxiously waiting for him to speak. Instead, the feline gave him a weak smile, then floated over to where the human lay and knelt down next to them. Once again, it was up to the rabbit to instigate a conversation.

“What did she say?”

Cheshire lifted his head up, slowly directing his attention to his companion. If he had a lip to bite, his fangs would surely pierce the flesh. “Seems like I worried my _meowsters_ quite a bit, huh?” he said jokingly.

“What did Lorina say?” Jacque repeated more forcefully.

The cat released a conceding sigh then turned his head low. “Someone already gave her a tip about the mess we’d gotten into. She's eager to whip our asses ‘till they bleed. It’s not undeserving, I’ll give her that. But I can’t let her have Alice right now. So, I have to ask you--”

“What are you talking about? Please, Cheshire, you have to be clear with me,” the rabbit urged. “You’re scaring me. What happened earlier?”

Cheshire actively avoided his eyes as he said, “You don’t need to know.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jacque blurted, a touch more loudly than he meant to.

“It means what it means,” the cat answered stiffly. “It doesn’t concern you, so stop prying.”

First he was excluded because he was a _messenger boy_ , now suddenly the _knave_ was more involved in all of this? One who’s done absolutely nothing but paint flowers and made shitty quips for the past several years, while his friend had actually been working for his people?! Such a prospect made his metaphorical blood boil so much that he forced himself onto his feet, lunging at the smaller skeleton and yanking him up by the collar. He let out a choked grunt.

“Jacque, what…!”

“Do you think I’m as naive as my ‘other’?”

Those words slapped Cheshire across the face. He was surprised to say the least, minty irises wide like saucers, his feet dangling a few feet above the ground. Behind him, Jacque spotted the cat’s tail twitching like mad with anxiety. But he refused to speak, _as always_. And the rabbit had no problems taking the reins.

“I don’t know about all of them, but I know all about my own,” he began. “Do you remember how that Nightmare took on _my_ shape? How it was _missing its head?_ Do you even know why it looked like that, or does _that_ not concern me either?!”

 _No, that’s not it, that’s not it_ , the small skeleton was thinking. _That’s not it at all._ But there was a special darkness in his friend’s eyes that made him too scared to speak.

Still fuming, Jacque continued, “Well, whether you wanted me to or not, I know exactly why. So pardon me for not being as trusting towards the human as everyone else is right now! You can’t expect me to look away and be find when something bad happens, especially when my own friend has done nothing but cling onto them all the time!”

“I… no, that's okay. I understand,” Cheshire stammered at last. “But, I… You know I mean well by keeping you out of this. It’s for your own--”

“No. No! Don’t even say that! You don’t do good by people by shoving them away, especially not someone who’s your brother in another life! Do you think _your_ ‘other’ would be that cruel? Because I know mine isn't!”

At the mention of _that “other”_ , the cat hardened up. That horrid, deep-seeded fury burned up in his eyes again, creating that migraine-inducing glare most people avoided. It didn’t faze the taller skeleton in the slightest this time. There was no way he would get scared off this easy.

“You’re fucking blessed I’m nothing like my ‘other’,” the cat suddenly snarled.

Just then, the rabbit cackled harshly. “Oh, I see! So now I should feel happy that the person I trust sees me like a child?”

“Shut _up!_ That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“That sure is what it sounds like to me.”

“I actually care about you! My ‘other’ would never look at you like I do!”

“And how would you even know?!”

“BECAUSE IF I WAS ANYTHING LIKE THAT _PATHETIC BASTARD_ , YOU WOULDN’T HAVE SURVIVED THE MASSACRE YEARS AGO!!”

…

…

…

Jacque released Cheshire’s collar, yet the latter was afloat, staying within eye level of his companion. Both of them were heaving, shaking, terrified. Jacque’s face was hot. Cheshire’s eyes were dripping wet. No one was happy about this… and yet, it was the deepest conversation the two have shared in such a long time. Even if they had thrown a lot of hurtful words, they were honest words. Words that they needed to hear after such a long time of stress. Words that most close friends would come by sooner or later, whether they wanted to or not. And after all of that, there was still more.

“I…” Cheshire’s breath went funny for a brief moment. His voice croaked from the screaming. “I don't know, I don't know. I-I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry, r-really sorry… You’ve been so good to me. I love and trust you, I do, but… I don't… I-I can't--”

Jacque slapped his hand over the other’s mouth.

“Stop being stupid,” he murmured with a considerably soft voice. “I don’t hate you, okay? I’m… sorry for being so harsh. All I ask for is no more secrets. Can you please do that for me from now on?”

With tears that felt like acid pouring out of his eye sockets, Cheshire nodded and hummed his confirmation.

Though he wasn't yet ready to confess what had happened before this time, the small skeleton was content with this outcome. He drew closer to the rabbit, accepting his embrace while he tried to control his breathing. His soul beat quite heavily in his chest, which in contrast to his numb face and hands was too much feeling for comfort. He felt like it wasn't _enough_ discomfort, strangely enough. Oh, hell, it was bad to start thinking like that, but there was too much going on in his head to realize this…

“Remember Edith's plans for a beacon?” Cheshire managed to whisper. “To ward off the Nightmares, I mean.”

“Yeah. Why? Have they found something at last?”

“Not exactly… Actually, it's something we've known about for a while, you and I. I didn’t want to say anything about it yet, but you of all people deserve to know…”

 

* * *

 

On the outskirts of the town, a certain little flower was late to the party. He sprouted up from the soil where he last felt a strong wave of vibrations, but the area was abandoned by now. There was a whole array of color mixed into the snow on the sides of the trail to Yuleside, and judging by their differing hues they had to have come from at least two or three different people. Then there was the bunches of cotton splayed all around, alongside torn limbs and pieces of bright pink fabric. At the center of the wreckage was a lone head with synthetic black hair and a pale face. Its eyes were closed, as if sleeping. He couldn’t sense its soul, let alone find a body. He already didn’t feel comfortable here.

“Frisk…?”

Almost as soon as Flowey called out, he heard a loud grunt off to the side. He turned slowly and found a man settled down near a display of roses. Golden glitter caked his messied red clothes, but that was about the only thing pretty to see on him. The rest of his features, from his muddied shoulders to his elongated claws, didn’t make him approachable in the slightest. What made him curious was how, each time he tried to brush his hands over the roses, he quickly recoiled as if burnt by their bright color.

Having nothing else to focus on, Flowey decided to sprout up next to the shadowed man. He heard him murmur, **But there’s no thorns to be found,** and the deep voice resonated with him, even though he already knew what kind of mistake he made drawing near.

Just then, the shadowed man turned. Holding back a squeak, Flowey closed up his petals to hide his face. This was another mistake, as he then felt the man’s large hands prod at his petals to observe them. His careful touch lingered on Flowey longer than it did the roses. The man hummed curiously. Then, he wiggled his fingers into the dirt, right underneath Flowey’s roots, and hoisted him up in that clump. Flowey tried to stay still throughout, pretending to be a normal plant, but he already knew that on closer inspection he couldn’t pass for a rose.

Without thinking, he opened his petals enough to make a hole for him to peek through. When he opened his eyes, he stared right back into an iris full of fire. He screeched as he bloomed, already shaken to tears, and quickly filling up with embarrassment. But the shadowed man didn’t act upon his terror. He stared down at the red flower with a tenderness in his otherwise fearful eyes.

 **Curious,** he said with a chuckle. **I’ve never seen a plant… cry before.**

His voice was more clear, more robust. Cheerful, if not tainted with years of pain. Flowey recognized that tone, but he barely remembered the pale, greenish face for what it once was. He readied himself to shake away his tears, but the man had already gone and wiped them away for him. This act alone only made Flowey sob harder.

“What are you doing…?”

Suddenly, the man started to laugh. His voice trembled, as if he too were sobbing.

**Young one… oh, my pure Aeternus…**

 

**Do you think me so cruel as to forget my own son?**


	17. Anxious, But Not Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it again, boys...!  
> apologies for the unannounced hiatus. end of the year stuff messes you up like that. but! here's some new material!! and i hope to be just a little bit more consistent with this project. really, i missed working on this stuff.  
> ahh, well enough banter. more to come in the future! enjoy what i've brought to the table for now.

_The blinds on the window were closed, yet the light of the rising sun still slipped through the thin cracks in those defenses. The objects on Frisk’s drawers were highlighted by these slim rays, and one of these objects began to lazily dance with what little light was fed to its sensor. The human was stuck to their bed, laying on their side and having refused to move for the last half hour since they woke up. On their bedside desk, their phone was relaying the voicemails from the past week on speaker. It was time for another inbox cleanse._

_“Good morning, anak ko,” said the cheery voice of their mother. “I’m out fishing with the girls right now, but I just wanted to check up on you. Don’t forget about your appointment with…”_

_They sighed heavily._ Yeah, yeah, I didn’t forget, _they responded silently._ I just don’t care right now.

_There were a couple more messages that were similar to this, all with the same sweet tones and the same “mahal kita’s” at the end. Sometimes, their mother would address them by their nickname, “Frisk”. Sometimes, she would use their real name instead--those were the stern messages, which probably meant it was best that they missed those calls. They promptly blanked out during this time._

_“Heyyy! Pick up your phone, already!” a sassy-sounding voice then demanded after a while. “I know you usually don’t care about these things, but I just found a good deal on…”_

_Their friends were always trying to rope them up into shopping dates. The only thing they cared about during those trips was to find the best spot to dine, or at least a cozy hat to wear while the cold weather set in. They never saw any harm in playing along, but lately they’d been a lot more reclusive. Lately, they’ve answered less and less texts._

_A voice they didn’t recognize asked them about a wedding for someone they didn’t know. An out of state call. Next message._

_The voice of one of their obnoxious uncles invited them to “a night with the…_ fellas _.” No doubt they were just going to get boozed up and talk about useless stuff. Next message._

_I don’t want to do this. Next message._

_I’m really sorry, again. Next message._

_Just let me be. Next message._

_Let me be. Let me be. Let me--_

_“Heya. Is anyone there…?”_

_…_

_“I hope I’ve got the right number. This is the only one that we remembered saving, but…”_

_..._

_“Uh… heh. Well, I’ll just leave a message…”_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_They shut off their phone and rushed for the bathroom._

 

* * *

 

All the voices from before were fading away from them now. New voices fazed in, but Frisk couldn’t process the words. They laid there in a cold sweat, their breath shaky, and their eyes stung by a creeping bitterness. This was one of those mornings where they _didn’t_ want to think about what just happened.

They hastily wiped their eyes and sat up on their bed… or, well, they thought it was their bed at first. Instead, it was long unused mattress, sitting in the corner of what they quickly deduced was a long unused guest room. They then noticed that their clothing had been removed for repair yet again and placed on a low table parallel to the bed. Besides there also being a dingy bedside desk, the rest of the room was almost entirely bare.

They slid a hand across their stomach, circling their fingers over where their now-healed wound used to be. Not a single marking was left on their skin, unlike the dryness on their knees from all the times they scraped themselves back home. Even their left arm was absent of scars, despite being so brutally damaged _twice._ But, none of this seemed to surprise them as much as they thought it would. They’ve well adjusted to the fact they’re above those consequences here.

The two voices could be heard from beyond the door again. Frisk managed to drag themself towards the door, turning the knob slowly so as not to cause noise. They peered outside to find their two skeletal companions sharing a hug by the main door. Jacque was just about ready to head outside when Cheshire tugged on his sleeve.

“You understand, right?” he asked. “They can’t have them yet. We need to work on raising those defenses before we…”

“I know, I know,” Jacque responded. “I’ll tell them all about what we discussed last night. But, you’d better not make another mess in my house, otherwise I’m taking your head for myself.”

“Oh, please! Not even Lorina could do that job right,” Cheshire said mockingly.

He then shut the door, throwing on its two locks for good measure, and when he turned around his eyes almost immediately locked onto the human’s. His smile nearly dropped then, but his eyes showed all of his exhaustion anyway.

Frisk was the first to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Don’t worry about me,” he answered, waving his hand dismissively. “You should look at yourself. You look like you barely rested.”

The human ran their fingers through their hair, pulling apart the weak tangles. “I guess so. I, uh… I think I had… not a _bad_ dream, but…”

“It’s alright, kitten. You’re back with me now, right?” Cheshire pressed his back against the door and forced his smile wider. “Well, I’ll be there with you soon. Just give me a minute.”

Despite their concern for his own wellbeing, Frisk trusted his word and slipped back into the guest room. While they waited, they threw on their freshly cleaned clothes again, save for their boots and their golden locket. They took the time to observe the latter object as they flopped back onto bed, popping the locket open to reveal its interior.

_It’s about the same as expected,_ they thought. Or… was it really? They couldn’t even remember the last time they bothered to look at this thing. Perhaps it was weird how they still held onto the locket despite it not being theirs. Not like the original owners would be there to collect it anyway. Maybe, at least for later they thought, they could swap out the photo with something more personal. Maybe not a picture of themself, but a picture of literally anything else they cared for. _Yeah. There’s a thought._

Their brainstorming was cut short when the skeleton entered the room, just like he promised, and took a seat beside them. The human finally threw on the locket and stuffed it under their jumper before sitting upwards.

"So, what were you talking about with Jacque?" they asked first.

"Just general planning. Nothing to work oneself up about." He stared off into space as he gave that answer, but to Frisk he appeared calm enough. So, they sprang the bigger question next.

"Can we talk about what happened last night?"

Cheshire refused to look in their direction. " _Can_ we, or _should_ we?" he asked back.

There was a long moment of silence between them before the human leaned in and wrapped their arms around the other. He stiffened up, yet he remained still there, unwilling to shake them off him.

"I'm sorry for making you chase after me," Frisk whispered.

The skeleton’s shoulders sank as he let out a heavy sigh. "I know you didn’t mean any harm. It was still stupid, though."

Frisk smiled bitterly to themself. _Just like old times,_ they thought. _Always as impulsive and tactless as ever._ Of course, back then, their actions never caused something to derail, nor were they chased by some hulking beast of shadow. The lack of a “why” on that part was especially irritating, but they also have to figure out how to get him off of their track. They and Flowey couldn’t be the only ones to know what he was, though… and Cheshire seemed like the only other person with a clue about what was happening. He was their best solace.

“Did you recognize that guy who attacked us?” they questioned hopefully. “The giant one, I mean. I could already guess who the others were. Or, at least, would you know about the ‘other’ of the guy that we…”

They trailed off, noting the weird look that Cheshire put on suddenly. It was in his eyes mostly; he didn’t look straight at them, but they still felt something tingle in their head when they noticed the glow. A tempting thought to push him briefly passed. They resigned to giving him time to settle down.

The cat then finally answered, albeit with a slight strain in his voice, “No, I don't. We've never seen such a creature around these parts. He's too sentient to be one of them, either. It seems like he's definitely on your trail though."

"But, why?"

He rolled his shoulders back, finally cocking his head up to look them dead in the eye. "Well, he noticed you were a human right off the bat. Not a lot of people remember what a human looks like anymore, and those who do remember are... well, reasonably cautious.”

The human's eyes fell away from his.

After a pause, the cat added more quietly “The queens would never say it, but even they get rather nervous around you. I can’t say I blame them, though--I hope you don’t, either. For all they know, you're the 'third' human to arrive, which makes you unpredictable."

"So, what you're saying is he's trying to nip this in the bud somehow?"

"It's textbook paranoia, or perhaps even one more step ahead of it."

“...It’s because of what I did several years ago, isn’t it?”

...

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

… ?

 _“Pretty much?” That was all you can say?_ Well, they weren’t exactly sure _what_ they expected him to say. _“No, you did no wrong, and it was so long ago?”..._ Well, it sounded a lot better than _“_ **_Pretty much_ ** _.”_ How do they take credit for something they don’t remember happening?

_How could he answer that so bluntly?_

“But, that other kid, Alice…” They couldn’t afford to hesitate speaking those nasty thoughts. “She’s the one that made me hurt a lot of people, wasn’t she? I was just the 'medium.'”

Cheshire’s face quickly turned into something unpleasant despite even his own wishes, like they had uttered forbidden words to him. Well, considering this Alice figure is… _was…_ the princess, perhaps it was fair to say the accusation was pretty damn ballsy. But, this was the only conclusion they could fall on according to what they've been told by Flowey. Surely even he could understand how the pieces fall together so well, right? Right?

“Hey, you know I didn't mean to…”

They tried to reach for his hand, but he got up just as they lifted their arm and proceeded towards the other side of the room. How funny his gait was, they finally noticed; he walked only by tiptoe, revealing round markings on his soles that glowed just like the stripes and curves of his suit. The floor was silent underneath him, whereas it would creak under Frisk when they got up to follow him. He didn’t turn around. They kept at their pursuit.

“Well, I’m going to make up for our mistake,” they declared sharply. “That’s why I ran off in the first place; I know someone who can help us, and I plan on taking him to the queens.”

The skeleton finally perked his head up. “Who?”

“It’s… a surprise.”

Finally, he looked at them again. The blaring light had left his eyes now, and quiet offense subsided for concern. “Either way, I can’t let you near the queens,” he said. “Especially not Gryphon. She’ll initiate our sentence before anyone can choose our verdict.”

The both of them already knew that wouldn’t slow them down anytime soon. It was their specially patented double-edged sword, and it seemed after all of these years they didn’t care to look for a better weapon.

“Well, I gotta get one of them to work with me on this,” the human insisted. “I trust that this guy knows what he's doing... and you trust me too, right?”

A lethal pause.

"I do. I really want to," he answered slowly.

…

…

…

The quiet wanted to set it, fully. It had free reign on the outside when the two felt like their conversation had finally settled, but there was no room for its peacefulness on the inside. The human’s head was pounding from a whole new stress entirely, and their palms were slick with sweat… It was the cat that finally reached out and tightened his hand around theirs. His fingers trembled, and they could tell even now what was on their mind when they were split apart.

_You must have been thinking about that this whole time, haven’t you?_

His body seemed to lean away towards the door, then back in towards them. Swaying back and forth, possibly for the whole time he’d been up here talking with them. The skeleton teetered on his pretty, glowing toes, not sure where to go, not sure which direction was best.

...This hesitation wasn’t new. This distance was quite old. Of course, there were better things they should worry about, but... The two had been holding back the whole time now, haven’t they?

_Right. No going back now._

All it took was a slip of the hand, after all, and then a nice gentle tug… and then, finally, the sweet silence set in.


	18. A Harsh Reflection

The human and the skeleton wouldn't see themselves out of bed until late in the day, where the golden afternoon gave way to a scarlet evening. The two made an honest attempt to catch up on sleep and replenish their energy, but poor Frisk could never settle into the deep levels of sleep. It wasn’t that they weren’t comfortable--although for a home as fancy as Jacque’s, they would have expected better accommodations--but certain thoughts had preoccupied their head to the point of restlessness.

 

**[ * You’re really lucky he was afraid of talking about it, too. ]**

 

Sometime when Cheshire began to snore deeply, they carefully pulled away from his arms and shuffled outside. On the first floor, they spotted Jacque’s maid talking on a baroque rotary phone in a rather exasperated way, asking things like, “Why are there weird neon stains trailing from the master bedroom to the living room?” and, “What do you mean you’re not looking after the guests as well?” Sitting on the clean part of the floor was her child, who saw the human creeping and waved quietly. Frisk nodded back at them and held their index finger to their lips before disappearing into the other room.

 

**[ * You never did like to speak when you didn't feel like you had to. ]**

 

They vaguely remembered trespassing through Jacque’s room while they were fused with Cheshire. They didn’t get a good look of the room the first time, but other than the nasty carpet stain, there was an overall appreciable aesthetic: fancy and rustic, much like a grandmother’s house. Most glamorous of all was the tall mirror standing at the back of the room, which Frisk positioned themself in front of accordingly. Almost as if on cue, _she_ presented some more commentary.

 

**[ * Hey, look, it’s you! … But, what even are you? ]**

 

 _Confused,_ Frisk thought back. _And annoyed._ Then, she laughed. Right in their face, from behind the mirror, or yet that what they wished it was like, so that they weren’t stuck being tormented by her disembodied voice.

 

**That’s good. So am I.**

 

_What for?_

 

 **Well, what do** **_you_ ** **think?**

 

They thought this was stupid, having some internal struggle now of all times. Perhaps it was deserving, though. Their silence earlier was beginning to weigh heavy on their conscience. It felt harder to breathe--

 

**Then tell him what he deserves to hear.**

 

_I already told him my piece, but he didn’t want to listen._

 

**Because even you knew it was a stupid excuse. Don’t play innocent.**

 

_How would you know that I’m not?_

 

**Come on. We all know what was going on inside your head.**

**The least you can do is just admit it out loud.**

 

Her arms curled around their shoulders, and her fingers playfully digging into their neck. They “felt” it, but not really. They could also “see” her sour look already--she’d been like this since last night. It was so much harder to ignore her now than it did before. They curled their own fingers into tight fists.

 

**Really, now. How much longer are you going to play this game?**

**Don’t act like you had nothing to do with--**

 

“Last night? Sorry, miss. I was out of town then. Why, did something else happen?”

Eager to leave the room already, using that noise outside as their perfect excuse, they unballed their fists and flattened out their apron which they’d been twisting up subconsciously. She finally went quiet, but not before ending her lecture on a disappointed note.

 

**[ * ...Despite everything, you’re still a coward. ]**

 

Frisk was greeted by a fearful squeak from the maid when they popped out of the room. She was coming to fetch them as requested by a man at the door. Someone who came all the way down to check up on them, she told them, and with flowers no less! She was also about to say, “By the way,” until the human cut her off with a quick “thank you, ma’am,” and rushed down the stairs to meet this mystery guest.

“...Patrick? What’s with the flowers?”

The monster cat, for once a welcoming sight, was standing there with a bundle of roses that they recognized were from Glendora’s garden. A slight relief for them, as they felt like their hair was awfully lacking without their new favorite decor. He was also wearing a huge and brightly colored parka, and he gave them a surprisingly moderate smile. “Oh, hey, Fri…”

When the human shot him a wary glare (as the maid was still within earshot, and the child was no doubt eavesdropping on them), he very quickly faded out to come up with filler.

“...er, f-frigid! Oh, man, it is so damn _frigid_ out here. You’re lucky to have a guy like Mister Rabbit lending you his roof, ain’tcha?” Patrick tried to feign an air of smugness while he handed off the flowers. “But, you’re even luckier to have a guy like me coming in with the fancy favors again. We didn’t even need to give ‘em their paint over this time. And look, they still smell like maraschinos!”

The human gave the paled roses a quick sniff. Finding their scent agreeable, they snatched one from the bundle and swiftly tucked it behind their ear, right where it belonged. “I wonder if they taste like it, too?” they joked with a weak chuckle.

Patrick’s face then suddenly became wrinkled with stress he’d been holding back for a while. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with a familiar agitation. “So, what the hell happened the other day? Do you even know how close I came to  _literally_ dying when Glendora called up saying you ran off?”

The human didn’t expect him to show up, let alone for them. It felt highly uncharacteristic, yet it made the effort all the more flattering. “I’m really sorry,” they said as they set aside the remaining flowers on the closest side table. “I can’t explain it all right now, but I promise I have a good reason for doing what I did.”

The monster poked his head inside and raised his voice in response, “What could be _so_ important that you had to--oh, god, it’s that bitch.”

Frisk looked over their shoulder and, sure enough, “that bitch” had finally stumbled out of the guest room. Rather than saunter down the stairs, Cheshire lazily flipped himself over the second floor rails and slowly descended to the first floor. Once his toes touched the floor, he pushed himself back to the air and continued to float his way to the human’s side.

“What’s going on here, kitten?” he mumbled as he nuzzled into the back of their neck. When met with a lack of response, he looked up and finally acknowledged the surprise guest standing there. “Oh, it’s you.”

“You already know Patrick?” Frisk asked, surprised by his unusual monotone.

Cheshire looked over the other monster more carefully, whose face was slowly contorting under pressure. The skeleton’s expression remained blank somehow. “I’ve spoken with him previously.”

With how Patrick began to rub his arms through his parka, the human could only assume that their last encounter was less friendly than they hoped it was. Not that they wanted to know what they were “talking” about at all. Still, Cheshire’s docility gave them an idea for how to play it off to their advantage. They started their plan off with a big, fake smile.

“That’s… good! That’s really good,” they cheered, moving away from Cheshire and wrapping their arm around Patrick’s shoulders. “Because, I was thinking… of getting some lunch with him in town! Just to see the wares. That’s okay with you, right? H-honey?”

When Patrick didn’t immediately catch onto Frisk’s escape plan, they pinched his skin with their nails. Thankfully, the monster held back his pain and very quickly learned to play along with this surprise act. He, too, began to fake a smile so wide that it flashed his gums. It baffled Frisk to see just how unperturbed the skeleton was at the sight.

“I’m not sure. You still strike me as… er, rather _farcical_.” Cheshire paused to scan Patrick's wavering composure. Frisk also showed signs of cracking, ready to shoot their hands up in surrender. Luckily for them, after he had given it some thought, the skeleton smiled back at the monster. “Well, if you’re a friend of Alice, I will respect their wishes. I’d come along, but it’s still much too early for me to ransack my old pal’s kitchen.” Then, he added with a tinge of embarrassment, “No hard feelings about our scuffle the other night, right, Patty?”

Patrick perked up suddenly and answered with an uncomfortable semi-falsetto. “Y-yep! Abso-posi-lutely, sir! You don’t have to worry about me, haha!”

Only now when Cheshire pulled Frisk aside did they notice the flowers on the nearby table and even in their own hair. His eyes sharpened briefly at the rose, and the human stiffened anticipatingly. Unfortunately, the skeleton chose to keep his trap shut, calming himself with the scent of their accessory, which he then used as an excuse to lean into their ear.

“Don’t keep me waiting, dear.”

The human gave him a tight hug in response. “I’ll come back soon.”

 

* * *

 

The odd duo didn’t book it out of town just yet. They did pay a quick visit to Yuleside’s famous bistro first, although Frisk stayed outside while Patrick went in to fetch their traveling meal. They trusted that he would grab a good meal for them, but for the most part they were too nervous to step inside. One look through the window was all they needed to be sure.

There was no way they could let themself get called out by a certain teen in a whole room of suspicious monsters.

Patrick returned with two paper bags. One had the intense smell of grilled lemons, and the other was most definitely concealed alcohol. “ _No hard feelings, right, Patty?_ ” the monster droned in a deep yet nasally tone, his ecstatic facade long decimated. “My name’s not Patty. Dick.”

Frisk rolled their eyes, all the while smirking. They took a peek at their citrus-infused lunch, which was full of cooked, fist-sized crickets, or _snickets_ as they were called around here, although _unfortunate_ sounded like a more accurate descriptor according to the human. They promptly closed the bag up and handed it back to their friend without saying a word.

The two snuck their way around the back of the building to enjoy their spoils semi-properly. The stench of waste wafting from nearby wasn’t the most welcoming, but the smell of Frisk’s lunch was able to overpower it. So, there was that.

Patrick took a sip of his hidden drink before asking, “So, where are you _really_ going after this?”

“There’s someone I gotta scope out for. A… close ally, if you will,” Frisk answered as the two pressed their backs against the warm brick wall. “He’s sort of in-the-know about everything we’ve seen so far, including the big guy that attacked us back at Glendora’s.”

He sank a little deeper into his parka and turned his head downward at the mention of _that guy._ The one that tried to kill them all? Yeah. Not a good thing to spring up on the poor monster cat like himself. After he took a longer sip of his alcohol, though, he found the courage to respond. “Well, he’s just an oversized Nightmare, right? Why don’t you just leave that big lug to Gryphon and go home?”

 _You really don't know how wrong your proposal sounded just now,_ they wanted to say. Instead, they answered with, “No. He’s not a Nightmare. We don’t know what else he could be, but we know it’s not that.”

Their memories of their last encounter with that shadowed man were a repressed haze, with the only clear detail being that brilliant color that they watched spill out of that behemoth when he was struck by that pink doll’s chainsaw. They would have thought it weird that he could talk, too, but so did that Nightmare Papyrus they took down at the start. Shape-shifting was also out of the question. No, the most defining contradiction was that he didn’t collapse like any other Nightmare; he was _bleeding,_ and he was _alive._   _If he was one of them, he’d have sank right away._

Frisk shook their head free of the visions and released their twisted up apron. “That’s why I need to find my buddy and let him talk to the queens. They need all the help they can get, and I already know this guy’s beyond their level.”

Patrick paused to take another swig of liquid confidence, though they already spotted his face begin to… well, _melt_ with pressure. He then stuttered, “You sure they’ll listen to you after that stunt you pulled the other night?”

Just like Cheshire, he was acting like a big ol’ scaredy cat. They couldn’t say they blamed either of them, though. Even they weren’t sure if they should have pushed on earlier today. But, at least right now, they felt that familiar charge surging through them again. The same charge that kept them going all throughout their life, even through their darkest times. It filled them right up to the brim, and they couldn’t let it go to waste. They had to cherish every drop of determination they had.

“What they’re thinking of doing to me is nothing compared to what he can and has tried to already,” they declared as they stood up tall. “They’re going to listen whether they want to or not.”

Frisk started back out onto the streets. Patrick straightened him posture as well, but he didn’t follow just yet. His voice cracked as they called for them to slow down.

“Are you really sure this is a good idea?”

The human stopped, and they stayed quiet. The monster slowly approached them and laid his free hand on their shoulder.

“Come on, Frisk. Maybe we can just slow down and wait for them, instead. They might go easy on you if you do.”

They still wouldn’t cough up. Even when he tightened his grip, or even when he let go entirely. They turned around, expecting another one of his hideous, begging smiles. Instead, he looked… genuinely panicked.

“I don't want to see you become one of the loonies at the resort,” he pleaded desperately.

…

 

**[ * You’re allowed to take this slowly. It’s okay. ]**

 

Frisk slowly exhaled, shutting their eyes tightly yet briefly.

"Why don't you come along, then?"

Patrick almost screamed right back in their face, but Frisk covered his mouth just in time (with two hands, to be most effective). They said they had everything under control this time, and that they would talk about their plans along the way, but they wasted enough time lazing around as is, and who knows what kind of mess their friend was in by now? He still gave them a highly unpleasant look.

You're sure? he asked, once they let him speak again. Yes, I'm sure, they affirmed. He sighed and finally agreed to follow along, but only for a while longer, he insisted, and only on one condition.

“Promise me that you won't end up like those kids from last time."

For a brief moment, their body stiffened up, but they managed to answer through a choked voice “I promise.”


	19. Time Has Been Cruel to You, Old Friend

While they went out to scour outside of town, Frisk supplied Patrick with every bit of information they thought was appropriate. While he went on to snack on their lunch (which was no problem for them, of course), they told him about how they found Flowey in that pot of flowers he gave them long ago--

“Wait. His name is what now?”

“Flowey. Flowey the… Flower.”

“...No shit.”

 _As they were saying,_ they encountered Flowey, and he told them a special secret about that shadowy guy who attacked Glendora’s mansion. The two meant to go surprise the queens with this info while they were still spry, but some things here and there happened that Frisk couldn’t remember… no, really! they said when Patrick glared at them. I’m not kidding! It all became a blur when they got lost in this purple haze, and the next thing they knew that big guy was able to track them down. By the end of that scuffle, they ended up at Jacque’s place to recover.

Patrick gave them a skeptical look by the end of their spiel. What kind of person gets into so much trouble in such little time? he asked. Frisk wished they could tell him exactly what kind of person. They just laughed it off instead.

From beyond the trees, they heard a small voice crying out. Though the cry didn’t address a specific name, the human knew it was for them already. They and their companion looped around the trees to follow the voice, and at last found the small red and yellow flower bursted out of a patch of snow.

“Flowey!” Frisk was the first to pounce, knee-sliding their way to his side and inadvertently throwing more snow onto his petals. “Aw, crap, your paint is wearing off.”

“Worry about it later.” Flowey promptly shook off the debris before noticing the newcomer. “Um, who is this?”

The monster cat quickly turned his head when he realized he was being addressed. Frisk answered for him, “This is Patrick. Don’t worry, I already told him what’s going on. So, ready to get going?”

Frisk’s hands hung awkwardly above the ground as they tried to decide from what angle to dig the flower out of the dirt. With a begrudging sigh, Patrick stepped in and, choosing to use his patchwork hat as the “pot,” scooped Flowey up with a generous clump of dirt. He carefully brushed away the snow on the top layer before handing him over to Frisk.

Flowey smiled gratefully at the orange cat before facing himself westward. “Alright! Time to go this way.”

“Uh, Flowey? We just came from there.” Patrick pointed a finger in the opposite direction. “The queens are _thattaway_.”

“About that,” Flowey said sheepishly, “we actually have a change of plans. There’s someone more important to meet today.”

The monster shot a nervous glance Frisk’s way. The human would only shrug back at him, having also been caught off guard by the surprise reveal Looking back at Flowey, they asked sarcastically, “Okay, and who could important than a literal monarchy? Some mysterious knight from an otherworldly dimension?”

Flowey beamed back. “Nope! It’s my mom.”

Patrick paused, dumbfounded. Again, he looked to Frisk for an explanation, and again they shared his surprise. However, it seemed to them a much bigger surprise than he thought it was.

“Sh-she’s still alive?” they asked. And Flowey knew full well that they had his mother’s “other” on their mind. It didn’t bug him too much, for the human’s eager response had him giggling like the little boy he once was. So long as someone else was as excited as him, this was fine for now.

“Heehee! I had that same look on your face when I found out, too!” He swung his head westward again, heavily insisting the group get a move on. “Now, come on. We have to go all the way down this path if we wanna meet her again.”

Frisk was already quick on their feet down the path back through Yuleside until Patrick rushed up and blocked the way. Both his arms were raised to his sides, and it took him a second to steady his balance. “Slow your roll, kiddo,” he interjected. “You do realize what’s at the end of this path, right? You’re not honestly telling us that we have to pay a visit to the Memoriam Tombs?”

 _Tombs…?_ They nervously looked to Flowey for an explanation, although he had already turned his head downwards and had his petals half-closed around him.

“I know it sounds scary,” he mumbled. “But, I know there must be a good reason for her to hide there. M-maybe she’s got a secret hideout from the Nightmares there?”

It was clear on Patrick’s face that he was still skeptical about the plan. He looked to Frisk for reassurance. “You really trust this kid?”

Though just as wary as him, they responded with certainty, “We have a better chance negotiating with this lady than with Madam Gryphon. If nothing else, it won’t hurt to try.”

And so, the trio turned back. They took a scenic route around the town as to avoid public detection, especially from the likely now wary eyes of a certain skeleton--if he caught them carrying Flowey on their way back, there would only be a repeat of the disaster from a couple days ago.

Once they were beyond town perimeters, Frisk noticed that the path had become part of a maze they were now backtracking through. With each trail the trio followed, there was one or two more nearby that either looped around or was a complete dead end. Flowey made an offhand comment regarding the traps at each dead end; Jacque took the time to teach him and his sister the answer to the traps’ riddles, but he always got stuck on the one about diving a loaf by a knife. For Alice, it was the one with the raven and a writing desk. Both of those riddles, as well as the others he continued to muse about, went through one of Frisk’s ears and out the other.

Thankfully, after several more trials of “security precautions,” it wasn’t long before the three finally made it to their destination. A wave of nostalgia swept over the human when they spotted the door, emblazoned with this world’s version of the Underground’s Delta Rune: a heart at the center--or perhaps it was an upside down spade?--hovering atop a single diamond, with the wings on either side of the heart consisting of a curved stripe with three orbs underneath. Though foreign to their memory, the emblem felt extremely personal.

The human brought a hand up to the door and knocked twice. When they hadn’t gotten an immediate response, they pressed their ear against the surface. There were heavy footsteps approaching the door, and when they stopped they felt something being lifted away from the other side. They quickly moved back as the door slowly swung open and revealed a large figure in a dark robe. Everyone from the outside stiffened up and bunched together in a tight group.

“Come to leave gifts for another unfulfilled birthday?” the hooded woman asked solemnly.

Patrick reached up for the top of his head at first, then remembering what had become of his hat, folded his hands together and gave his best friendly face. “G’day, miss. Actually, we’re here for a different matter. You see, our friend Flowey here--”

“Mom?” Flowey’s eyes were already brimming with tears when he peeked at the woman’s face from under the hood. “Mom, it’s me, Aeternus.”

Neither Frisk nor Patrick knew what he was babbling about at first. The woman gasped at the name and swiftly pulled back her hood, causing both of them to stumble back into the snow. Under those robes was an old goat woman, with off-white fur and nubbed horns. When Patrick sat up, he cried, “Your Majesty!” and scrambled up to bow to her. But Frisk could only bring themself to whisper another name.

“Toriel…?”

“My dear sweet Aeternus!” The old nanny’s smile was tinged with grief when she moved down to take Flowey from Frisk’s hands. She continued to speak in shivering tones, “Oh, my poor Prince! You’ve become just like the other ‘you’ your father talked about long ago. Are you in any pain?”

Flowey quietly giggled through his own weeping, “I’m okay, mom. I’m okay.”

Patrick helped Frisk up to their feet, hissing to them, “Don’t just gawk! Pay your respects to the Queen!” But they just couldn’t take their eyes off of the woman. They didn’t see a queen in front of them; they saw the mother that they missed for so long. They saw the choice that they failed to make when the right time came for it.

They saw Toriel, their caretaker.

Alas, time was not kind to this version of the poor old woman. Her face looked miserable with the way it sagged, and it was no challenge defining the wrinkles in her hands, either. Even her ears appeared to droop past her shoulders like locks of hair. They knew that the real Toriel was fairly old, but she was never able to really _show_ it. Now that they saw the effects, they too felt their eyes sting with tearful disbelief, and it seemed that the woman noticed this.

Still holding her flower son in one arm, she reached out and cupped Frisk’s face, her claws lightly dragging across their cheek. “And you must be the human I have been told of,” she whispered happily.

“Yes, of course. The human,” Patrick repeated. After a brief pause, he yelped, “Wait, the _human?!_ ”

“I am so glad to have finally met you child,” the old nanny said, backing away with an excited grin. “My name is Dolores, though I will give you special permission to call me ‘Lola.’”

Frisk smiled back at her, noting how well her name suited her looks. Dolores beckoned at them and Patrick, wasting no time to invite them inside. “I am sure you three must be exhausted after your long travels here. Please, come in and warm yourselves up. Allow me to prepare a big meal for you as well.”

The two followed her through the door, eager to rest their legs, although the cat monster kept an obvious distance from his companion. The door behind them gradually closed with a hefty thud, quickly encasing them in the tunnel’s dusty air.

 

* * *

 

He stood behind the trees while the human and the monsters disappeared into the tombs. When the door shut and its clasp echoed throughout the snowy forest, he knew his long wait for nightfall started here. The shadowed man settled down in the bushes near the entrance while he replayed the plans in his head. He had already shared some parts of it with Aeternus, but there were many more layers he’d left behind. He had to make sure it all went accordingly, and that his son’s emotions wouldn’t interfere with the proceedings.

Three hands placed themselves on the man’s back. One was almost his size, while the other two were incredibly small. All three of them were slick and still struggling to imitate solid forms. He welcomed the Nightmares’ touches, having already expected their visit while he sat there waiting

 **Tonight is a big night,** the voice of his beloved wife said gleefully. **I still believe you are better off dead, but perhaps you will refrain from failing us again?**

 **Of course, my love,** sighed the shadowed man.

 **I was waiting for you to come back,** said his son’s illusion next. **You’re lucky I was even patient with you. After what happened to me, you don’t really deserve my attention!**

 **I am well aware, my son,** the shadowed man agreed in shame.

But the “little girl” did not speak up. He cast his glowing red eyes on the quiet Nightmare, who hid her face behind her dainty human hands while she pretended to sob. He gently waved his “wife” and “son” away while he moved himself closer to the girl and wrapped his arms around her. Her form very slightly squished and altered with his embrace.

 **I suppose this means you know it was me?** he asked.

The “girl” unstuck her hands from her face, melted and warped. **If you go through with this plan, you’ll kill me, too,** she wept in garbled tones

 **Perhaps, a long time ago,** the shadowed man began to answer, his rumbling voice wavering with great sorrow, **back in a time when things were simpler than this, I would not have to come after you like so. But you must understand, my little Alice: If I cannot pin you both down now, this world and the next will crumble a second time.**

 **But why me?** the “girl” began to question panickedly. **Why do I have to die too? Why do you want to kill me dad?**

The shadowed man could not provide her with an answer. All he could do was hold her close to his body, and hope that was he was doing was in fact the right thing, despite what these hallucinations wanted him to believe. His “little girl” hid her face again, feigning shame and neglect while she ducked out of his hold and curled up on the ground. Then, just when he dove to comfort his “daughter,” the Nightmare stood again, taller, and wearing a face that reminded him of his rage.

 **If that’s how you want to play, then you’d better hope we don’t kill you first!** the “human” taunted, ready to swing their fake knife in his direction.

The man slashed across the Nightmare’s waist, liquefying them instantly, and the Nightmare fell laughing. His “son” and “wife” also cackled loudly and jeered at him.

**Oh, how terribly useless! A beast with no brain!**

**As if he really cares what happens anymore!**

**Do you really think that you can fix this place,** **_your Highness?_ **

 

**_S I L E N C E !_ **

 

The echo of his mighty howl lasted for quite some time. The power of his voice shook the snow from the branches, but it did not reach the fakers before him. They didn’t feel real emotions. They themselves were not real, and he knew this for many years now. Keeping them around for so long was a foolish thing, admittedly. Nevertheless, he could not part with these creatures just yet, for awful and stupid reasons that he alone was actually guilty for.

By now, though, he had grown weary of their prodding. His “wife” moved to his side and gently patted his back. Slowly, he allowed himself to be lowered to the ground and had his head resting upon her lap. She and their “son” looked down upon him, while off to the side the collapsed Nightmare still writhed for a while before settling into its puddle for good.

 **Close your eyes, you miserable thing,** she cooed, insincerely as ever. **Tonight, we all make the ultimate sacrifice.**

His eyes still were darkened, but they also carried a newfound determination for his upcoming duty to his people. He couldn’t let them down again. They needed their King to rise again.


End file.
